The Odds of Human Nature
by Dhvana
Summary: Spring is in the air and, for better or worse, Charlie is given a chance to expand his social skills. (CharlieOFC)
1. How to Capture a Genius's Attention

Title: The Odds of Human Nature

Pairing (subject to change): Charlie/OFC (please give her a chance--I hope I've been around the block long enough not to write a Mary Sue, but I could be wrong)

A/N: This is my first Numb3rs fic. Though I enjoy the show immensely, I've only been able to catch about three or four episodes. While I've done my best to keep the characters in character, please forgive any mistakes or if things get too OOC. Also, most math and sciences are beyond me, so if I screw up, I apologize.

Greeting card disclaimer: Except for the characters and concepts that are mine, the rest belongs to some very lucky people who I wish all the best and hope that they and the show have many more seasons to come.

* * *

Chapter One: How to Capture a Genius's Attention 

Two women sat at one of the picnic tables placed beneath the trees on the CalSci campus, both enjoying a couple of iced mocha lattes and the beautiful late spring day. One woman was Cameron Burgess, professor of Astronomy at CalSci. The other woman, younger by about five years, was Alison Strauss, associate professor of marine biology at UCLA. From the friendly banter and mindless chitchat, they didn't seem to have a care in the world, but beneath their sunglasses both pairs of eyes were intensely focused on the young man in front of them. The object of their scrutiny was walking across the lawn, precariously balancing an armful of papers and trying to write on a notebook at the same time.

"I'm impressed," Alison said, toasting him with her nearly empty cup before taking a drink from the long green straw. "I'm lucky I can walk and breathe at the same time, and he looks like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders."

"Yeah, well, he's got the brains to spare for little things like breathing," Cameron said with a sidelong glance at her friend. She had caught the interested note in Alison's voice and knew her comment had been more than just a casual observation.

"You know him?" Alison asked innocently, confirming the good doctor's suspicion, who couldn't resist a smug smile at being able to read her friend so easily.

"I do. That's Dr. Charles Eppes, mathematician and resident genius. Well, one of them," she said, fluttering her eyelids modestly, and Alison laughed.

"More geniuses? You CalSci folk sure know how to make a simple girl like me feel all inferior."

"If it's any consolation," Cameron said, shifting on the bench to make sure she didn't lose track of Charlie, "he makes me feel like a three year old on a merry-go-round. I sat in on a lecture of his last year, and listening to him talk and trying to follow all those figures made my head spin. I'm an astronomer, I should be used to that sort of thing, but Dr. Eppes lives in a world far beyond ours."

The biologist shuddered. "I hate to think how I'd feel trying to follow him."

"I think the two of you would be pretty evenly matched," Cameron chuckled. "He'd talk about Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, you'd talk about hydrothermal vent animals, and neither of you would have a clue what the other was saying."

"Ah, yes, a conversation where both parties are clueless. My favorite," she said dryly, her eyes still on the professor as he paused to dump his papers on one of the stone benches so he could sit down and write more easily in his notebook. "He's kind of cute, for a genius."

"It never ceases to amaze me how surprised people are to see that we're not just a bunch of pasty-faced, pocket-protector-wearing, bug-eyed freaks," the astronomer said, shooting her friend a dirty look.

"Well, I know it surprises me," Alison said blandly, and Cameron stuck her tongue out at her. She laughed. "Are you sure he's the reason you felt like a three year old?"

"You're just jealous of our superior intelligence," she said airily.

"Yes, but I don't envy you your wit," Alison shot back, and Cameron grinned.

"Admit it," she said, nodding towards the mathematician, "the only reason you're interested in him is because of the hair."

"I'd kill for the hair," the biologist said with a wistful sigh, gazing at the messy dark curls. "But the rest of him isn't entirely unappealing."

"Listen to you gush!" Cameron teased. "He 'isn't entirely unappealing.' My goodness, you've just gone and fallen head over heels, haven't you?"

"What do you want me to say? That I'd give anything to run over there, knock him to the ground, and have my way with him right on the campus. . . wait a minute."

"Oh no," the older woman groaned at the calculating expression on her friend's face. "Whatever it is you're thinking, stop it right now."

"Too late," she said with an impish grin, flipping through the spiral-bound notebook in front of her. Finding the pages she was searching for, Alison tore them out and clipped them together with the bright orange plastic paperclip she'd had stuck to the notebook's cover. She quickly wrote something in the right hand corner, then placed the clipped pages on top of her pile of books. Rising to her feet, she shouldered her bookbag and kissed her friend on the cheek. "Cam, thanks for the calculations. I'll talk to you later."

"Ali, whatever it is you've got planned, don't."

"Wish me luck," the biologist said, completely disregarding her friend's warning tone, and headed towards the unsuspecting mathematician who'd just regathered all of his belongings and was once more making his trek across campus. She had to rush a little to make sure their paths intersected, but fate was on her side as Charlie was still too deep in his thoughts to notice the young woman plotting a collision course with him.

He was made painfully aware of it, however, when he suddenly found all of his belongings had taken flight and gravity reached up to pull him down onto the ground, bringing another body with him.

"Ugh," Charlie grunted as they landed, papers fluttering around them like confetti.

"I'm so sorry!" the extra body exclaimed. "I was in a hurry and I should have been paying more attention to where--"

"It's all right," Charlie interrupted, not fully registering any of the girl's excuses. He was more concerned about the disruption of the equation he'd been working on. Quickly squirming out from under her, he began gathering up his papers and notebooks.

"It isn't all right! This is all my fault. I could have hurt someone--I could have hurt you! You aren't hurt, are you?" she asked, helping him to recapture his work.

"I'm fine. It was my fault, too," he said, trying to place his papers into some semblance of order, but he began to think that would be impossible with this woman chattering at him and the wind constantly threatening to blow the loose pages away. "I get distracted and then I forget there are other people around me. I'm usually better at avoiding them, though."

"Like I said," Alison smiled broadly at him, "all my fault."

"Don't worry about it." Charlie quickly gathered up the rest of his notes and looked up at her without really seeing her. "Sorry about the confusion."

"The confusion is all yours," she said, somewhat enigmatically Charlie thought, but then his eyes settled on the notebook and the page he'd been working on and he was lost again.

Alison watched as he headed back towards the mathematics department, smiling triumphantly to herself as she shoved the rest of her things into her bookbag and walked towards the parking lot. Halfway there, her cell phone started playing "E-Pro" and she pulled it out of her pocket.

"Yes, my esteemed Dr. Burgess?"

"I should have wished you luck. I don't think it would have made a bit of a difference."

Alison's grin deepened. "I'll have you know my plan worked perfectly."

"He didn't even notice you're alive! I'll bet you a hundred bucks he wouldn't be able to say whether the person who knocked him over was male or female!"

"Cam, I've been around you enough to know that once you're inside your head, it's pointless to try and pry you out. I've just given him the opportunity to get to know me on his own time."

She could practically hear her friend's eyes rolling over the phone.

"I'll take your word for it, but I want you to know, it's my personal belief that you're delusional."

"And you're entitled to that belief. Good thing you didn't go into psychology."

"That's because you're the only headcase I can stand being around."

"Not to mention, your bedside manner is atrocious. Would a true psychologist refer to a patient as a 'headcase'?"

"Shut up and go home," Cameron said, and Alison grinned as she opened her car door.

"Oh, yeah, the world of medicine lost a prime candidate in you. See you this weekend?"

"Wouldn't miss it. Can't wait to hear about your 'progress' with the professor."

"Good bye, Cam," she laughed, not the least put out by the tolerant amusement in her friend's voice as Cameron said good bye.

* * *

Charlie walked into the classroom and immediately chose to forgo the notebook in lieu of the whiteboard. He dumped the pile of papers on the table, not noticing that in their disheveled state, half the pages slid onto the floor. He was already knee-deep into green marker and flowing numbers by the time the last page landed. 

Amita, who'd been sitting at a desk in the corner working on her thesis, smiled at her advisor's absent-minded state. Most of the time, she looked fondly upon his distraction, though there were days when she wished she could grab him by the shoulders and wake him up enough to see that there were entire worlds he was missing. Or, at the very least, that he would remember one staff meeting on his own.

Today, however, was one of the fond days, so she didn't hesitate to gather up the fallen pages and arrange the entire mess into a neater stack. Mixed in with the loose papers were pieces of napkin--Charlie had supposedly been picking up lunch at the cafeteria--and pages of various colors with writing on the back announcing dates for bands or frat parties or club meetings, the holes in the top telling her they'd been ripped off of a bulletin board. She wondered if Charlie had managed to at least get something to eat before inspiration had struck, and whether or not the department would be getting an invoice from the bookstore later for the cost of the notebook.

Looking at a few of the pages, Amita tried to put them in order, but conceded after a few minutes that the mess was beyond her. Charlie, as the only one who'd understand his myriad of notes, would just have to sort through the pages himself. With one more glance at her professor, who had paused in his frantic writing to look over what he'd written, she smiled and returned to her desk.

Two hours later, Charlie emerged from his sea of numbers with a satisfied expression and a growling stomach. He glanced down towards the protesting organ with a frown. Had he eaten lunch? He knew he'd left for lunch, but had he actually eaten anything? Another rumble answered for him and he sighed. Guess not.

Turning towards the table where he'd dropped his papers earlier, he saw that someone had straightened them --Amita most likely, he thought with a smile. She'd also left a plastic-wrapped sandwich and a Coke that was nowhere near cold, but he didn't really notice. He quickly finished off the sandwich--chicken salad, must have been one of the last they had--and began going through the pages, trying to place them back in their original order.

He was halfway through when he came upon a group bound together by a bright orange plastic paperclip, their edges in shreds from being torn out of a notebook.

"This isn't mine," Charlie said aloud as he began looking through the pages.

"What's not yours?"

The mathematician turned and offered Larry a perfunctory greeting with a wave of his hand before looking back at the pages. "These," he answered, rattling them slightly. "I don't know what these are."

Larry sat down next to him and glanced over at the papers in question. "Maybe a student's homework?"

"Possibly, but it isn't anything I'm working on in any of my classes."

"The handwriting looks feminine--a project of Amita's?"

"No," Charlie shook his head. "Not her handwriting, and it's far too basic for anything she'd be working on."

"It could be just something someone left on the table that got mixed up with your things."

"Couldn't be. It was actually stuck between--the girl!" Charlie's eyes brightened with understanding, while Larry's face grew confused.

"The girl? You met a girl?"

Charlie's expression took on an edge of uncertainty. "At least, I think she was a girl."

"You met a transvestite?" Larry asked, sounding even more confused than before.

"No," he answered, grinning at the physicist. "Someone ran into me--literally--on the way to the classroom and our things must have gotten mixed up. I didn't get a good look at the person, but if he or she is the owner of these pages, then she must have been a girl."

"I can't believe this," Larry said with an exaggerated sigh, running his hand through his hair. "You run into a girl and you're too preoccupied to notice! Why not me? I'd have noticed! Why don't I ever get that kind of luck?"

"The luck, and the bruises to go with it," Charlie said, suddenly aware of an aching in his tailbone. "Besides, she probably wasn't even your type."

"How do you know? She could have been Miss America and you wouldn't have batted an eye. She might have been the girl of my dreams."

"Or nightmares, if she has a habit of knocking people over."

"Right now, I'd take her, nightmare or not."

"What's with the sudden fixation on the opposite sex?" Charlie asked, forcing himself to look away from the pages in his hands and focus on his friend.

"My fixation? Have you looked outside lately? Flowers blooming, trees budding, birds singing, couples making out on the lawn. It's spring, the time when men's fancy turns to. . ." Larry hesitated, trying to remember the correct word, then shook his head, waving the problem away. ". . . something or other, and it's almost over! Don't you ever wish you were out of this stuffy classroom and walking hand in hand down the beach with your sweetheart?"

"I don't know," Charlie answered, bemused. "I never really thought of it."

"That's exactly your problem! You don't think about it! If you did, you'd realize your body is filled with raging hormones just waiting to be placated and all you do is focus on--on--on this!" he finished, gesturing towards the whiteboard.

"Let me guess--you've been talking to your parents again, and they spent the entire conversation gushing over your sister and her kids."

"Yes," Larry moaned, burying his head in his arms. "I can shed light on the mysteries of the universe, but all they care about is grandchildren."

"They're proud of you, Larry. It's just hard for them to keep pictures of the electromagnetic spectrum in their wallets to show to their friends."

"I know," he said in a muffled voice. "I just wish I could give them something they consider tangible to make them happy."

"Like a squalling baby and a handful of dirty diapers?"

"It would be their Nobel Prize."

Charlie chuckled, patting his friend on the back. "They'll be fine, and so will you. If falling in love is really what you want, then I promise you'll find her, one day. And if it will make you feel any better, between the two of us, the odds are in your favor. You're the one always having to explain human nature to me. At least you'll know how to relate to her, whoever she is. I'll probably be so wrapped up in my head, I won't even see her."

Larry immediately perked up and the mathematician didn't know whether to laugh or feel offended.

"You know, you're right," Larry said, lifting his head and grinning at Charlie. "The day you manage to get a date before I do is the day I quit physics to join your brother at the FBI."

"You'd never make it," Charlie quipped as he turned back to the pages in his hand. "You'd have to pass the physical first."

"And this is why you will never have a girlfriend," Larry said, pushing away from the table and standing up. "Want me to come get you before I leave?"

"Please. Don insisted that I join him and dad for dinner tonight. Well, threatened, actually. He said that if I didn't show up, he'd handcuff me to a chair away from all writing utensils for twenty-four hours. You're welcome to join us if you want."

"Gee, handcuffs and meatloaf--sounds exciting, but I think I'll pass. Thanks for the invite, though."

Charlie tore his gaze away to meet his friend's eyes with a smile. "You know you're welcome any time. See you in a couple hours."

* * *

Don walked through the house, pausing to stick his head in the dining room where his brother was sitting at the table. As usual, Charlie was surrounded by several pieces of paper and scribbling away on a notebook. Smiling fondly at his brother but deciding not to disturb him, Don walked on into the kitchen where their father was standing in front of a pot at the stove. 

"Hey dad," he said, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

"Hey Donny," Alan said, glancing over at his eldest son as Don took a seat at the kitchen table. "How're you doing?"

"Not bad. You?"

"Good, good. Nothing to complain about. Things going well at the office?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "it's been a pretty quiet week. Saw a serial killer get life in prison without parole and closed a case involving a man slipping poison into a couple of elementary schools' water filters. All I've got left to entertain myself is a desk full of paperwork, and I'm not complaining."

"Have I ever mentioned that your idea of a quiet week is enough to give most people nightmares, myself included?"

Don smiled, sipping at his beer. "I think it's been mentioned. So, he actually showed up?"

Alan glanced towards the dining room as he sat down across from his son. "Larry dropped him off about thirty minutes ago. He's been in there ever since, but at least he's here."

"Yeah, he's here," Don said and the two shared a mutual smile of familial relief. They knew it wasn't easy for Charlie to integrate himself into the world outside his mind, and they were proud of every time the youngest Eppes managed to merge his path with theirs, even if it was only for a few hours. "So, what's for dinner?"

"I thought I'd try something new."

"Something new?" Don echoed, a note of surprised amusement in his voice. "Dad, are you sure that's a good idea? Should I have some ipecac on hand?"

"Ha ha. You should go on one of those comedy shows with that sense of humor of yours."

"I would, but I signed a contract with the FBI never to moonlight as a comedian," he said, grinning around the top of his bottle as he took another drink.

"Consider your humor a threat to the public, do they?"

"We all know I got my sense of humor from you, dad."

"And look what you did with it," Alan said with a mournful sigh. "What a waste."

Don chuckled, finishing off his beer. "I'll try not to take offense at that. Now, seriously, what are you making?"

"Goulash."

"Goulash?"

"A friend gave me the recipe," Alan said with a too-casual shrug, and Don tried his hardest to bite back his grin.

"A friend."

Alan stared intently at his son, daring him to say another word. "Yes, a friend."

Deciding to let his father off the hook this time, Don just smiled at him. "Smells good. Anything I can do to help?"

"Nah, it's about finished. Just go see if you can get your brother to join us."

"I'm on it," Don said and headed back to the dining room where Charlie was still busy writing. Placing a hand on his brother's shoulder, Don peered at the pages on the table. "Hey, buddy, what're you working on?"

Charlie looked up, startled at his brother's touch, but then his face relaxed into a smile. "Donny, when did you get here?"

"A few minutes ago," his brother frowned, picking up one of the loose pages. "What's this? This isn't your handwriting. New project?"

"Something like that. Belongs to this girl I ran into."

Don looked at his younger brother with an expression of interest as he sat down across from him. "You met a girl?"

"No, I ran into her." Charlie frowned. "Or she ran into me. I'm not exactly sure. The actual event is kind of fuzzy. I was working on an equation at the time."

"Now, why doesn't that surprise me?" Don asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and ignored the resulting look his brother gave him. "So this girl, she's having you work on a project for her?"

"No. I doubt she even knows I have it. Our papers got mixed up in the collision."

"Then why are you working on it?" Don asked, puzzled, and Charlie offered him a sheepish smile.

"Numbers," he said, holding up one of the pages. "It's a theory of some sort. I just can't figure out what it is she's trying to do with it."

"Ask her."

Charlie shook his head. "I can't. I don't know who she is, or even where to find her."

"You could always call."

"How?"

Don picked up the first page to Charlie's left and held it up while pointing to the right hand corner. "Alison Strauss. Phone number 555-6152."

Charlie snatched the paper from his hand. "This was a phone number?"

"Yes, it's a phone number. What did you think it was?"

Tossing the paper aside, Charlie started flipping through his notebook, pausing after four pages. "Well that makes a lot more sense now," he said, and began crossing out the parts of the equation where he'd tried to fit variations of the number 5556152.

Don started to laugh as he leaned across the table to grab his brother's pencil.

"Hey!" Charlie protested, staring angrily at the still laughing FBI agent.

"You really do need to get out more if you can't even recognize a phone number," Don said, putting the pencil on the seat of the chair next to him. "You can have the pencil back after dinner. Come on, it's time to eat."

"All right," Charlie said with a reluctant look at the pages on the table. He slowly stood up and another thought took over his mind that had nothing to do with mathematics. "Hey Donny?"

"Yeah?"

"Should I call her?" Charlie asked, a hand hesitating over the page that carried the owner's name and number. "Let her know I have her work?"

"Yeah, sure," Don shrugged. "Might be important."

"Then I guess I probably should," he said, his eyes uncertain.

Biting back a smile, Don walked over to the table and picked up the paper. "Charlie, have you ever called a girl before?"

"Sure. I call Amita all the time, students I need to speak to, and I've called several female colleagues when we were working on projects together."

"Then why are you so nervous?"

"I'm not nervous," Charlie answered a little too fast, and a slight flush colored his cheeks. He blamed the whole situation and the butterflies in his stomach entirely on Larry and his talk of spring. "All right, so maybe I am nervous. I mean, I don't even know who she is."

"And you won't, until you call. Charlie, all you're doing is offering to return her property to her, nothing more. It isn't like you're asking her on a date." Seeing that his brother was making no movement to take the number from him, he sighed.

"Here, hand me your phone," Don said, then looked at their resident genius, his eyes suspicious. "You do have it, don't you?"

"Yes," Charlie said, his gaze filled with wounded pride as he pulled his cell from his pocket. "I've been keeping it handy in case you needed me."

"And I refuse to feel guilty about asking because I've had to replace it half a dozen times already, so put the wounded puppy dog look away, and give it to me."

Grudgingly handing his brother the phone, Charlie watched as Don entered the number and pressed the 'send' button. Holding the phone up to his ear, Don waited for a second, then gave it back to his brother.

"Here, it's ringing."

"It's ringing?" Charlie exclaimed, holding the phone away from him as if expecting it to explode. "What do I do?"

Don rolled his eyes. "When she answers, you say 'hello'. You introduce yourself, and then you tell her why you're calling. Everything after that should be easy."

"O-okay. I. . . I think I can do that."

"Then you'd better hurry," Don said, nodding towards the phone where he could hear a voice repeatedly saying 'hello' on the other end. His brother quickly held the phone up to his ear.

"Hello? Hi, my name is Dr. Charles Eppes."

Sighing at the hopelessness of his brother's social skills, Don returned to the kitchen. Alan looked up from placing three bowls and spoons on the kitchen table.

"Where's your brother?"

"Making a phone call. He'll be right in. Want one?" he asked, holding up a fresh beer from the fridge.

"Yeah, thanks."

Don nodded, grabbing another bottle and a can of Coke before going over to the table. They only had to wait a minute before Charlie came stumbling into the kitchen, a dazed look on his face. He slid into his chair, the phone still in his hand.

"The call go well?" Don asked, and Charlie's eyes focused on him.

"She said it's a date."

"What's this?" Alan asked, jumping on the word. "You have a date?"

"We arranged a time and place where I could return her papers, and she said, 'It's a date'."

"Charlie, that's just an expression," Don sighed. "It isn't a 'date' date."

"Oh," Alan said, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice, much to both brothers' amusement. "Colleague of yours?"

"Something like that," Charlie said.

"What'd she sound like?" Don asked.

"She sounded. . . I don't know, nice? Grateful?"

"Young?" Alan asked.

"I suppose so."

"If she's cute, you should ask her out."

"Dad!"

"Well, you should," he shrugged, dishing out goulash into the three bowls. "If you're not going to ask Amita, you should at least ask someone. Now eat up. You're going to need your strength for this date of yours."

"It isn't a date, and it isn't until Friday."

"Eat up anyway," Alan said, placing the pot back on the stove. "You're too skinny. You'll scare her off if you go there looking like a skeleton."

Knowing it was pointless to further argue with his father, Charlie exchanged a grin with Don and began to eat, using his family and food to drown out all thoughts of the meeting on Friday.

* * *

(Completed April 25, 2005) 


	2. It's a Date

The Odds of Human Nature

Chapter Two: It's a Date

"Is that what you're wearing?"

Charlie paused with his hand on the light switch to his office and took several deep breaths. When he'd managed to push down the sudden spike of annoyance, he turned to Larry and said the phrase that had become his mantra over the past six hours. "It's not a date."

"But it could be."

With a sigh, he turned off the lights and shut the door. "As I've already told my father fourteen times today, it isn't." What was with everybody? Charlie wondered. Even Don had made a point of stopping by for breakfast just to tease him about his meeting with the collision girl, and he was quickly reaching the end of his patience. If this is what people had to put up with while dating, he was seriously considering taking an oath of celibacy. And it wasn't even an actual date!

"Besides, there's nothing wrong with what I'm wearing," Charlie said, looking down at his usual classroom fare--jeans, black tee-shirt, jacket. "And as long as I'm not walking around naked, I don't see why it's anyone's business."

Catching the edge to the normally tranquil voice, Larry's brow wrinkled with concern as he gazed at his friend. "Charlie, are you all right?"

"Yeah," he answered, hating that he felt guilty for defending himself and forced a smile for his friend. "I'm just a little tired of everyone taking such an interest in my personal life, especially when there's nothing personal involved. Why is it so difficult for people to understand that I'm simply returning her papers to her, nothing more?"

"I'm sorry," the physicist said, looking properly shamefaced at his own busy-bodying. "I didn't realize it was becoming such an ordeal."

"You have no idea," Charlie said as they started down the hall towards the exit. "This morning, dad was actually telling me about a store he knew where I could get a great deal on an engagement ring." And Don had nearly given himself a hernia, he was laughing so hard at the expression on Charlie's face. At least his brother had offered to give him a reconciliatory lift to CalSci after that, but Charlie was more than ready to wash his hands of the whole thing. "I just don't understand what the big deal is."

"The big deal is this--you could have put the papers in the mail to return them to her, and they would have reached her a lot faster. Instead, she actually bothered to set up a meeting between the two of you, and even more astounding, you actually accepted. What you've agreed to is a social interaction between two people, something we don't often get a chance to see you participate in."

"The meeting was only meant to be a civil gesture, something nice done for someone else. It was not meant to turn into Monty Python's Flying Circus. You do realize I'm capable of civil gestures, don't you?"

"Every time you help me double-check an equation or offer to assist your brother solve a case, you're doing something nice for us, and we appreciate it. This just seems a little out of your realm."

They reached the exit doors and Charlie turned to Larry, his brown eyes perplexed and slightly worried. "Am I really so inept at being human that every step I take outside of the classroom should be considered as part of some sort of psychological study?"

"It's not that you're inept at being human, Charlie," Larry said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We're just afraid that you're going to wake up one day thinking that math isn't enough and not know what to do next."

Charlie chuckled as he opened the door. "Math not enough? Trust me, Larry, that day will never come."

The physicist watched as Charlie walked down the sidewalk to the waiting cab, his eyes filling with sorrow. "Don't be too sure of that," he said softly, waiting until the cab had left before turning around and heading back down the hallway.

Charlie stepped out of the cab and onto the sidewalk swarming with an odd combination of lackadaisically dressed students and men and women in business suits. It was almost noon, the time they'd arranged to meet, and the various restaurants and cafes were buzzing with the lunch crowd. The collision girl--Alison, he reminded himself with a glance at the pages in his hand--had promised to meet him at the corner of Westholme and Hilgard, but he didn't know how prompt she would be and he felt a little out of sorts. He'd been to the UCLA campus before, but each trip failed to equate him with the enormity of the place. He immediately missed the intimacy of CalSci's quiet little campus and, for a second, he wished he were back in the safety of his classroom.

"Hey, mister, you still want me to wait?"

Charlie bent over to look at the driver and was about to give his assent when a head peered into the passenger's side window.

"You can go--I've got him."

"He's all yours," the driver said and the woman pulled Charlie away from the door, shutting it just before the car drove away.

Charlie stared at the disappearing vehicle, then turned to look at his captor. "I was actually going to--"

"Hi Charlie," she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Alison. Thank you so much for agreeing to come down here. I've been in class all morning and I'm booked for the rest of the afternoon, or I'd have tried to meet you a little closer to home."

"It's all right," he said, feeling overwhelmed as he took her hand. Her skin was soft against his own, except for the coolness of the rings adorning her fingers. Her handshake was firm and he realized he was strengthening his own grip in order to match hers. Alison's eyes lit up.

"I have to say, you have a wonderful handshake. Have you noticed that lately handshakes have become sort of. . . wussy? Half the time, I feel like I'm shaking hands with a Kleenex. Are you hungry? I missed breakfast this morning and this is the last chance I'm going to have to eat for the rest of the day. Would you care to join me for lunch? My treat. It's the least I can do after you made the trip all the way over here."

"Run out of breath?" he couldn't resist asking when she'd finally paused to wait for an answer, and a flush climbed up her cheeks as she looked down at her hands.

"Sorry. I tend to babble when I'm nervous."

His face softened as his eyes filled with relief. "You're nervous?"

"A little bit," she shrugged, looking up at him again with a bashful smile. "Cam's told me so much about you, I can't help feeling like a tiny ant staring up at the sole of a shoe unable to figure out how this is going to turn out."

"If it's any consolation, I promise not to crush you."

"Sounds good," she said. "And I promise not to knock you over again. So, lunch?"

Here was a complete stranger asking him to share a meal, and despite knowing what his friends and family would say about it, he didn't hesitate to answer. "I think I'd like that."

"Great." Alison took him by the hand and began dragging him down the sidewalk. "I know just the place. It's a haven in the midst of all this chaos. I always forget how busy things get around noon, but since we're right across the street from the science buildings, it's the most convenient place to go. Though I suppose the Bombshelter on campus would be technically be more convenient, but it's nice to get off campus every once in a while."

"You know, I'm beginning to think nervousness has nothing to do with your babbling. Admit it. You're like this all the time, aren't you?"

Alison looked over her shoulder at him and winked. "Only one way to find out."

She led him into Java Espresso and Bakery and as soon as the door closed, he couldn't help sighing when the barrage on his ears suddenly vanished. The bakery was full of people, but it was almost as if there was an unwritten rule against excess racket. Several students were studying as they ate, and a there was an enclosed room in the back for large parties that needed to make more than the acceptable level of noise. The whole atmosphere was one of serenity and academia, and he felt right at home.

"It's like I just walked into a library," he said, smiling at her.

She nodded. "But a library where they don't mind if you bring in food and drinks. I love this place. I spend way too much time here."

"Hey Professor Strauss," called out a young man from behind the counter and she chuckled.

"As has just been demonstrated--we all know each other by name," she said, and stepped up to the counter. "Hi there, Sam. How's tricks?"

"Rolling right along. You brought company?"

"Got tired of hearing myself talk. Sam, this is Dr. Charles Eppes from over at CalSci."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "The Dr. Charles Eppes? Wow. I'm impressed. You're certainly moving up in the world, Professor. It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Eppes."

"You, too," Charlie out of politeness since he was positive he'd never see the young man again in his life.

"So, what'll it be?" Sam said, turning back to Alison. "The usual?"

"You know it."

"Full or half sandwich."

"Full, please. This is lunch, dinner, and breakfast combined."

Sam tsked at her, shaking his head. "You should take better care of yourself, Professor," he said, and Charlie couldn't help grinning. Nice to know he wasn't the only one who got that speech.

"I know, but it's a long day. What about you, Charlie?"

"I'll just have whatever you're having," he answered, staring at the menu written in chalk above our heads and finding he didn't recognize half of the items listed there.

"Great. That'll be two hummus on whole wheat, two bowls of potato leek soup, chips and extra chips, and two large green tea lemonades."

Charlie stared at the young man, hoping he was joking. When Alison handed him her credit card, Charlie realized the order had been real. What on earth had he gotten himself into?

"Raul will call your name when your order's up," Sam said, setting out on the counter two glasses of water and two glasses of a pale yellow liquid that could only have been the lemonade. Charlie was put a little at ease by the fact that the lemonade at least looked normal.

"Great," Alison said as she signed the receipt and shoved a five into the tip jar. "Thanks, Sam."

"Any time, Professor."

She handed the waters over to Charlie and took hold of the lemonades, leading them through the maze of tables and chairs to an empty one in the back.

"Did I really just order hummus?" Charlie asked as he sat down.

"They make the best hummus in L.A.," Alison said, taking a drink from her lemonade. "You'll love it. I can't get enough of the stuff. And their bread is amazing--they make it fresh every morning. And remind me to grab a brownie on the way out--you have got to try one. Talk about melt-in-your mouth chocolate ambrosia."

Charlie smiled at the blissful expression on her face. "Sounds like you know the place pretty well."

She nodded. "I'm in here at least three times a week for lunch, and sometimes dinner, too."

"And you always order the same thing?"

"I'll occasionally get a different kind of soup," she shrugged, "but otherwise, yep, same thing every time."

"I don't think there's ever been anything in my life I've liked so much that I'd eat it three times a week."

"Never?" she asked, surprised. "Not even when you were a kid?"

He shook his head. "I'd just eat what mom made for me. It didn't really matter what it was. Of course, nowadays, I'm lucky if I even remember to eat."

"And I get complaints about my eating habits," she teased. "We should you a butler or personal nutritionist or someone who will make sure you don't waste away."

"That's what family's for," he said with a smile. "My father and brother have taken it upon themselves to remind me when they know I'm too absorbed in my work to remind myself. They've even got my advisee pushing food at me."

"Sounds like they're conspiring against you, but in a good way."

"I guess so," Charlie said, "even if it does feel like meddling a lot of the time."

"I hope you're referring to those times when food isn't involved."

"Yeah, I am," he said, and was surprised to find him grinning at her, but only because of the way she was grinning at him. It was almost as if he couldn't help himself.

"I understand how you feel," Alison said. "I've got three brothers--one older, two younger--and they consider it their god-given task to oversee every aspect of my life."

"Three brothers?" he asked, his eyes wide. He couldn't imagine having three Dons in his life. He was constantly screwing up having just one. "That must have been hectic growing up."

"It wasn't too bad and we get along pretty well. They just need straightening out every once in a while."

"I can imagine," Charlie grinned, wondering if he should get her advice on just how to accomplish that. "So what does your family do?"

"My parents are both architects. They met working at the same firm after college, fell in love, and recently started their own firm in San Francisco. Benji, my older brother, followed in their footsteps, but he's the last to do so. I'm a marine biologist, Casey is working on his residency at a hospital in Seattle, and Stephen is. . . well, he's still working on that. He's spent the past three years trying to get his band off the ground with very little luck--but that's only because they're all spectacularly lacking in anything remotely related to musical talent."

"That would make things difficult," Charlie chuckled. His sophomore year of college, he'd discovered the hard way that even if he used math in order to play the music, it sounded dead to his ears. He could play music on the piano with technical perfection, but he didn't have that something extra needed to make it actual music.

"The only reason they've survived this long is that all of them are damn pretty to look at and have no end of female followers. We're hoping he'll give up on the band and just settle for acting. He does community theatre in his spare time, either performing or helping out with the lighting and sets. He's good, too--really good--but he just doesn't want to let the music go."

"It's hard to let go of something that you've spent so much time on, no matter how far out of your reach it remains."

Alison's eyes studied him for a moment, and he felt as if she was seeing beyond his words to a secret he didn't even know he had hidden. "You sound as if you're speaking from experience."

"Maybe," he shrugged, and he could see she was about to delve deeper when Raul called out her name.

"Soup's on," she said as she stood up, the seriousness vanishing from her face. "Come on, give me a hand."

Charlie dutifully followed her to the counter where two bowls of potato leek soup were waiting.

"Sandwiches will be up in just a second," said the man behind the counter.

"Thanks, Raul. Charlie, could you grab those while I take these back to the table?"

"Sure." He watched as Alison carefully balanced the soup in her hands while weaving through the tables and a low whistle of admiration caught his attention. He turned to see Raul placing the full plates on top of the counter while keeping his eyes on the biologist.

"Man, when they hear about this, you're going to be the envy of the entire south campus."

"I am?" Charlie asked, puzzled.

"Hell, yeah. Most usually only last the night. That you made it to lunch makes you one lucky man."

Realizing what Raul was implying, Charlie quickly rushed to defend Alison. "It's not like that. We're just colleagues."

"You work with her?"

"Well. . . no, not exactly."

"Like I said," Raul smirked, "one lucky man."

Charlie grabbed hold of the plates and carried them to the table, avoiding any further comments. As he sat down and began eating, he took the time to look--really look--at his companion. Alison was pretty, he supposed, in an outdoorsy sort of way. Her brown hair was streaked by the sun and her skin deeply tanned, which was probably common for a marine biologist. Now that he was actually paying attention, he realized she had a nice body, shapely but toned, definitely the kind a guy wouldn't kick out of his bed. She was attractive, but while waiting for her to arrive earlier, he'd seen at least two dozen women walk by who were stunning in comparison.

On the other hand, he conceded, she did have a really nice smile, one that made him want to smile back. She was surprisingly easy to talk to, especially for someone who wasn't used to talking much, and she was a pleasant distraction from the numbers in his head. He decided that if he had to choose, her best feature would be her eyes. Her eyes were a pale sea green made even more remarkable as they stood out against the darkness of her tan. He could definitely see the benefit of being able to gaze for hours into her eyes.

"Do you like it?" Alison asked, and Charlie shook himself from his analysis of her.

"What?"

"The hummus."

He hadn't even realized he'd finished the soup and started on the sandwich layered with hummus, lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise. Taking a tentative bite, he chewed for a moment, then swallowed. "It's really good."

"I'm glad to hear it," she smiled, and he watched with curiosity as she lifted the top slice of bread from her sandwich and placed several potato chips inside before returning it.

"Why did you do that?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"I like a little crunch to my sandwich, which is why I always ask for extra chips," she said and lifting the sandwich to her mouth, she took a big bite. Charlie had to laugh at the look of utter rapture on her face. "What? It's good!"

"I think I'm going to have to see for myself," he said, and placed a chip on the next bite of his sandwich. Considering how little attention he paid to how things tasted, he was surprised to discover that he actually liked the potato chip's added crunch. "I definitely need to remember to add potato chips next time."

"Told you it was good," she grinned, and took another bite.

They finished their lunch and, as promised, Alison bought a brownie on the way out, breaking the monstrous pastry in two and giving half to Charlie.

"This is incredible," he said, his voice filled with awe as he practically devoured the brownie in one bite.

"Slow down or you'll choke," she chuckled, taking hold of his hand. "We can always go back and get some for you to take home."

"And share with the rest of the family?" he asked in mock horror.

"Spoken like a true younger brother," Alison laughed, nibbling on her own piece. "We'd always tried to scarf down anything good we got, just to make sure we didn't have to share. I can't tell you how many times we stuffed ourselves on cookies and candy growing up. With three other siblings around, it was either eat or go hungry where junk food was concerned. There were plenty of healthy things to munch on in the house, but what's the fun of that? Of course, it drove our parents up the wall because no matter how well they hid it, we were like bloodhounds where sweets were concerned--especially chocolate. Not a single ounce of chocolate survived more than a day in our house. Apples could go soft, but chocolate didn't stand a chance."

"You're babbling again," Charlie said, and she paused, turning to meet his eyes.

"That's because I'm nervous again."

"Why?"

Alison shifted uncomfortably on her feet and gave a hesitant shrug. "The thing is, in a few minutes, you're going to get into a cab, and unless I say something now, I might not ever see you again."

Charlie's breath caught in his throat as he gazed into those sea green eyes. She felt something for him, and he. . . he'd be a fool to deny that he felt something for her. "That would be bad," he said quietly, "wouldn't it?"

"Charlie, have you ever been out on a boat?"

An eyebrow arched at the sudden change of subject, and Charlie shook his head. "I don't get out much. It's not easy to tear myself away from my work."

"I'm taking a class scuba diving tomorrow and I would love for you to be my guest. I'll also be bringing along some oceanography students who will be doing some underwater mapping, just in case diving isn't your thing."

"I can't even swim," Charlie said, "but I think I'd really like to join you."

"Good, because I'd really like for you to be there. A friend of mine, Dr. Cameron Burgess from your astronomy department, will also be along for the ride so you'll have someone to talk to while I'm teaching."

"Dr. Burgess? I think I've met her a couple times."

"You have, and she's told me all the gruesome details," Alison joked, and he immediately wondered just what sort of details her friend had shared. "Why don't I pick you up? That way you won't have to worry about finding the marina."

"Good idea." Charlie tore a page from his notebook and wrote down directions to his house along with his cell phone number and the number for home.

"Excellent," she smiled, folding the paper and tucking it into her back pocket. "So I'll see you tomorrow at seven o'clock?"

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Then it's a date," Alison said, and Charlie's heart skipped a beat. This time, it really was a date. An actual date. Well, a date that included Alison's class and her friend, but her invitation had been directed at him, making it a date as far as he was concerned.

"Thank you for inviting me, and thanks for lunch."

"It's the least I could do," she said, holding up the pages he'd returned, and he gave in to his professional curiosity.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is that about?"

"This? Nothing much. Just part of an equation I was working on last semester to determine how global warming was affecting humpback whale migration patterns."

"Really? That's. . . wow. That's interesting." He paused as something she'd said managed to sink into his consciousness. "Did you say last semester?"

"Oh, look, here's your cab." Alison waved to the taxi and it pulled over next to them. She held open the door for him, and he prepared to step inside. "I'll see you tomorrow, Charlie. Seven o'clock, and don't forget."

"I won't. Alison. . ." His hands settled on the doorframe and he felt as if he should say something more, but he couldn't find the right words. Finally, he settled on, "I'm glad you ran into me."

Alison smiled and him and leaned forward just enough so that their lips brushed together. "I'm glad I ran into you, too," she said, and stepped back so he could sit down and close the door. She waved as the cab pulled away, Charlie twisting in his seat to watch her until the traffic swallowed her up. Sitting down against the vinyl, a slow flush of excitement crawled up his face. She'd kissed him. They were going on a date, and Alison had kissed him.

Larry had been right about the joys of spring. As far as Charlie was concerned, it was the best season ever.

"Charlie, are you sure it's safe?"

Knowing Don was just looking out for him, Charlie resisted rolling his eyes and simply gave his brother a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. If all else fails, I'm sure they have lifejackets on board for when the boat hits an iceberg."

Don snorted, shaking his head. "You've been spending too much time with dad."

"Yet another reason why I'm going tomorrow," Charlie said as he continued erasing the chalkboards in the garage. "I really thought you'd be happy for me."

Sighing, Don rubbed his face in his hands. "And I am. I'm just a little concerned." Concerned that you're going to be so lost in your head you'll fall off the boat and no one will notice. Concerned that this girl isn't what you think and she'll end up breaking your heart. Concerned that you're not ready for this much this fast.

Charlie dropped the eraser on a table and turned to his brother, crossing his arms over his chest. "You think I'm a complete idiot when it comes to women, don't you?"

"You're not an idiot, and yes," Don said, and took a drink from the plastic bottle he'd brought with him to the garage.

"Would it make you feel better to know I'm not a virgin?"

Water spewed everywhere and Don began coughing furiously. Charlie just leaned against the table and waited for him to recover.

"What?" Don sputtered, wiping his chin with his sleeve.

"I'm not a virgin. I haven't been for years now."

"Charlie, I. . . you. . ."

A small, sadistic part of him enjoyed the dumbfounded expression on his brother's face. "In fact, every time I go away for a conference, I rarely spend any of those nights in my own hotel room."

Don felt the bottle slipping from his fingers and he quickly set it on the ground next to his chair.

"I never go intending to sleep with them," Charlie continued. "I just receive invitations, and I accept. I admit, the first time it happened, I didn't quite know what was going on. It was after I'd finished giving a presentation and I was a little dazed by the response it had gotten--it was extremely well received. Afterwards, this woman whisked me away to her room, but because she was a good twenty years my senior, I didn't think anything of it. At first."

Listening to this, Don felt a burst of anger at the way his little brother had been taken advantage of. Where had he been during this time? As Charlie's older brother, shouldn't he have been protecting him? Or, at the very least, shouldn't he have prepared Charlie for the eventuality of sex? He should have talked to him about it, told him what to watch out for, what to be careful of, or at the very least, bought him a damn hooker. Instead, he'd left Charlie defenseless and open for the first predator who'd come along.

"Don't look at me like that, Don. She was amazing, understanding, and quite gentle. I learned a lot from her."

"I think I'm going to be sick," Don said, grateful he was sitting down.

"I'm only trying to let you know I'm not a complete dunce about this sort of thing, and Alison is not going to be like the rest of them. I can tell."

"Why? Just because you didn't fuck her on the first night?" he snarled, and immediately regretted his words as he caught the hurt in his brother's eyes. He hung his head. "Shit, Charlie, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. I'm just--"

"Worried, I know. That's all you and dad ever are," he said coldly, then sighed as he shook the chill away. His brother didn't deserve his anger, not over something like this. "I know I've given you plenty of reason to worry in the past, but Donny, you're just going to have to learn to trust me. I know you were away for a long time, but you have to realize I'm not the little kid you left behind, not anymore."

Don looked at his brother and truly saw for the first time the adult lingering behind the intelligence in his brown eyes. "I'm beginning to realize that. That doesn't mean I want you to go tomorrow." He knew better than anyone how quickly the adult could be drowned out by the flood of numbers in his brother's mind. "Charlie, you don't even know how to swim!"

"Like I said, lifejackets. Not that there will be any reason to use them. It's a boat ride, Don. That's all."

"With people you don't even know."

"With a class---you know, students, teachers, learning. Not drug runners, murderers, psychotic monsters. My world, as opposed to yours. In case you haven't realized this, my world is the safer of the two."

"Yeah, I know," Don said with a wry smile, then sighed, accepting that nothing he said was going to change his brother's mind. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to worry."

"Just so long as you know the worry's mutual. I've seen what you're up against, Don, and I worry about you every day you're out there."

"So we're agreed. We're both going to worry and there's nothing the other can do about it."

"That sounds about right," Charlie nodded with a smile. "We don't have to like it, but we do have to accept it."

"I think I'll settle for just not liking it," Don said, and his brother chuckled.

"If that's the best you can do."

"It's all I can offer you right now."

"Then I accept."

"Okay. Now tell me," Don began, a wicked gleam in his eyes, "what's all this about you having sex with strangers?"

All the humor in Charlie's face was replaced by a rush of embarrassment and he jumped to his feet. "Is that dad calling? I think I hear dad. Dinner must be ready."

"Charlie. . ." But his little brother was already out the door and halfway to the house. Chuckling, Don grabbed his bottle and turned out the lights, closing the garage door behind him. He'd have to nail his brother to the wall for that one some other time.

Completed April 27, 2005


	3. How a Mathematician Equates Fun

The Odds of Human Nature

Chapter Three: How a Mathematician Equates Fun

Don held his arm over his ears, trying to block out Charlie's mumblings as his brother walked in and out of the dining room, up and down the stairs, to and from the garage. He should have just sucked it up and driven home last night instead of crashing on the couch, but the slow week at work had meant spending more time with his family, and he was kind of loathe to give that up. However, if he'd known that Charlie was going to be waking him up at the crack of dawn, he'd have just slept in the car.

Charlie made another pass through the room and he groaned, lowering his arm. "Charlie, what the hell are you doing?"

His brother didn't respond. Not a surprise. He sounded just as distracted as when he was working on his equations. "Charlie!" he snapped grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him.

Charlie came to an abrupt halt, blinking quizzically at the pillow, then looked over at his scowling brother. "Oh, good morning, Donny. You're awake?"

"Yes, thanks to you. What are you doing?"

"Packing."

"Packing?"

"For the trip today. I'm trying to figure out what to bring. Don, what would you bring on a boat trip?"

"A towel, plenty of sunscreen, and a cooler full of beer. What are you bringing?"

Instead of answering, he hefted his bag over the sofa and onto Don, where it landed with a resulting "Oomph!"

"Sorry."

"Sure you are," his brother muttered, moving the bag to a less painful position so he could glance inside. "Charlie, what've you got in here?"

"My laptop, a couple of books, three notebooks, a package of pens, a folder of research I downloaded from the library, and an extra battery for the laptop. Oh, and a baseball cap you left behind a few weeks ago."

Don looked between the bag and his brother and sighed. "Charlie, let me tell you something about boats. First, you're going to be in the middle of the ocean under the burning sun. Second, there's going to be a constant wind around you. You'll be fighting with the wind to keep your pages down, and you'll be fighting with the sun in order to be able to see the screen of your laptop. You're going to hate me for saying this, but would it kill you to just take a day off?"

"Donny," Charlie said with an amused smile, "I couldn't take a day off even if I wanted to."

"Yeah, I know," Don said, lugging the bag onto the floor--there was no way he wanted to be the one dragging that thing around all day, "but don't you ever wish you could?"

When there was no answer, Don turned to find his brother staring at him, his eyes filled with consternation.

"You know," Charlie finally said, emerging from his careful consideration of the question, "I don't know. I've never really thought about it. I would have to find a way to turn off my brain and stop thinking, which I'm pretty sure I can't do. I don't think there was ever a time when I've lived without numbers. I don't even know who I am without math."

"Well, I don't want you becoming someone else, so here," Don said, removing one book and one notebook, the cap and the bag of pens from the bag, "take these--only these--and give yourself a mini-vacation."

"But Donny--"

"Charlie, let me put it this way--it wouldn't be logical for you to take this entire bag. Just take the bare minimum of what you need--"

"This is the bare minimum of what I need," he interrupted with a grumble that Don chose to ignore.

"--because there's a good chance you won't even touch what you do bring. You've never been on a boat before and the trip is for a class, right? Maybe you'll find they're working on something that will completely grab your attention. Or maybe your mind will just become so absorbed with the experience that you won't have time to think of math." Which is what he sincerely hoped would happen. Don had always wondered if it was possible, and he worried about his brother burning out, especially with all the extra work he and the Bureau had been piling on him lately. It would be nice if Charlie could take a vacation from his mind. "Spend this time having fun, Charlie. You might find that you'll like it."

His younger brother sighed and slumped down into a chair. Closing his eyes, he thought quietly for a few minutes, then nodded. "Maybe you're right."

Don grinned. "I know I am."

"Do we even have any sunscreen?"

"I'm sure there will be plenty on the boat."

"Can I at least trade books?" Charlie asked, a teasing note to his voice. "That one was just for back-up research."

"I suppose so," he chuckled, emptying the bag's contents onto the coffee table and repacking it with his three approved items, four counting the baseball cap. "And now you can carry it without having to worry about breaking your back."

Charlie rolled his eyes as he grabbed his bag. "Maybe while I'm taking a break from my mind, you should be taking a break from your sense of humor."

"What is it with you and dad bugging me about my sense of humor?"

"Consider it constructive criticism," Alan said as he walked into the room. Both brothers' eyes widened in surprise to see their father in a fresh shirt, his hair carefully combed, his pants perfectly pressed, and their noses wrinkled as his entrance was followed by a cloud of cologne.

"Um. . . dad?" Don began. "Is there something you're not telling us?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're sort of dressed up," Charlie explained, and Alan smiled at him.

"Of course I am. I want to make a good impression on your girlfriend."

"Dad, she's not my girlfriend!"

"Charlie, you're dating her. She's your girlfriend."

"This will only be the second time we've gone out!"

Alan ignored Charlie's protest to cast a critical eye on his other son. "Don, get up and put some pants on. We don't want to scare her off."

"No, just smother her with cologne," he said under his breath as he stood up.

"What was that?"

"Just wondering what cologne you're wearing," Don said as he fastened his pants, Charlie shooting him an amused look.

"Oh, it's nothing," Alan said, looking flustered as he folded up the blanket Don had been using. "Something a friend got me."

"The same friend who gave you the recipe for goulash?" Dan asked coyly, trying to keep the grin off his face.

"That's none of your business," Alan answered, and Charlie chuckled.

"Sounds like you've got a girlfriend, dad."

"She's just a friend."

"Kind of like Alison and I are just friends?"

"Completely different. You and Alison are dating. This friend and I are just friends." Seeing the skeptical looks on his sons' faces, he struggled to think up a better explanation but was saved by the sound of the doorbell. "And here she is. Don, straighten your brother's hair."

"My hair's fine."

"Not to mention," Don said, taking a step out of Charlie's reach, "it would be pointless."

"Thanks," Charlie grumbled, but ran his hand through his hair anyway. "You're doing wonders for my self-esteem."

"You're a wunderkind. What do you need self-esteem for?"

"Boys!" Alan said sharply, then opened the door with a welcoming smile on his face. "Alison, come in! We've been looking forward to meeting you."

Don eyed his brother's date carefully as she walked in, a hesitant smile on her face until she saw Charlie. When she saw him, Don was stunned to see her smile grow warm, her entire being light up. He'd always thought such a transformation was the stuff of fiction, but seeing her now, he couldn't help feeling. . . well, annoyed. He appreciated that someone out there finally saw how special Charlie was, but wasn't it a little soon for them to be so attached to each other?

On the other hand, maybe she was just relieved to see a familiar face in this familial ambush.

"Dr. Strauss, come in," Charlie said, stepping forward. Don hid a smile to see him reach for her hand and then stop himself. Confidence, Charlie! he wanted to say to his brother. Women like confidence!

"This is my father, Alan Eppes," his brother said and their father reached out his hand.

"It's so nice to meet you, Dr. Strauss."

"Alison, please," she said, shaking his hand and finding hers quickly encompassed between both of his.

"Only so long as you call me Alan. Charlie didn't tell us how lovely you are." Charlie's face immediately turned a bright red whereas Alison's eyes took on an extra twinkle. "And so tan! You must spend a lot of time outside."

"I spend every spare minute I can in the water, and no amount of sunscreen seems to help."

"It doesn't hurt, either. Gives you a lovely glow, don't you think so, Don? Alison, this is my eldest, Don, the FBI agent."

"Agent Eppes," she nodded and Don gave her a thin-lipped smile.

"Just call me Don."

"Well, I think that about wraps up the introductions," Charlie said, shouldering his bag and edging Alison towards the door. "Shall we go?"

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for a cup of coffee or perhaps a little breakfast."

"That's sweet of you, Alan," Alison said, "but we really have to go. It wouldn't look right for the students to beat the teacher to the class trip."

"You're right, of course," he smiled, and Don could see he was completely charmed by her. "Charlie, do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, dad."

"It was good meeting you, Alison."

"You too, Alan."

"See you later," Charlie said and shut the door behind them before Alan could follow them out onto the porch.

"I think she'll do," Alan said with a satisfied nod and went into the kitchen for some coffee. Don just watched from the window as she and his brother climbed into her Wrangler, wondering what it would cost him to get an investigation started. Not that he thought there would be anything wrong with her, but he wanted to make sure Charlie would be safe. He had tickets to a Lakers' game he didn't really mind missing--maybe he could exchange them with Tony for a background check. He'd have to see about it first thing Monday.

"Sorry about that," Charlie said sheepishly as Alison drove away from his house.

"Are you kidding? I think we got off easy. My parents would have had you tied to a chair while my brothers interrogated you for at least an hour before letting us leave."

"Really?" he asked with wide eyes, and Alison chuckled.

"I wouldn't put it past them. I don't. . ." Charlie watched, curious, as her normally open face grew shuttered. "I don't have many long-term relationships. I rarely even manage second dates. Benji calls me picky, but Stephen says I'm just a wanderer and not ready to settle down."

"And what do you think?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe they're both right. But you can imagine it's been a while since I've brought anyone home to meet them."

"If it's any consolation, I haven't had any long-term relationships, or even really dated. Ever."

"Wanderer or picky?" she asked with a sidelong glance at him.

"Neither. Blind."

"Blind?"

Charlie didn't answer immediately. He wanted to explain to her what his life was like, hoping she would understand and not reject him, but that fear of rejection made him hesitate. Then she looked at him, smiling encouragingly, and he swallowed his fear, wondering just how much that smile was capable of making him do. "It's difficult for me to see anything outside of my numbers, even people. I get so wrapped up in my work that even if I wanted to see people, after a while, they stop wanting to see me. The sad part is that sometimes, I never really notice they're gone."

Alison reached over and took his hand in hers, giving it a comforting squeeze even as she said light-heartedly, "If it'll help, I'll come in wearing flashing lights and bells on my feet."

"Big bells?" he asked, reassured by her reaction.

"The biggest I can find and still lift my legs."

"That might work," he grinned, giving her hand a return squeeze.

She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it before returning it to him. "To be honest, you sound like Cameron when she gets absorbed in her work. I come equipped with a bullhorn when I visit her. At this point, I think she's either starting to lose her hearing, or she's ignoring me."

Charlie chuckled. "Is she the one who'll be on the trip today?"

"That's her. At least you'll have someone to talk to who won't be an insult to your intellect, unlike we lowly creatures with our inferior brains."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I'm rather fond of quite a few lowly creatures--fond enough to tolerate them, at least. They make for fascinating studies."

Laughing, Alison lightly backhanded him across the arm. "Nothing I love more than a man who makes me feel like a lab rat," she grinned as she dug into her pocket and pulled out her ringing cell phone. She handed it to Charlie. "Here, it's Cameron. Tell here we're about five minutes away."

"How do you know it's her?"

"E-Pro is her ring."

"Do I have a ring?"

"Yeah," she said, winking at him. "Collide."

Still chuckling, he answered the phone.

The students arrived almost at the same time he and Alison did, and the resulting flurry of action left little time for introductions or small talk. They piled themselves and their equipment onto the catamaran and took off for the deep blue sea. It turned out only ten of the students were divers and the other dozen were there as part of the seafloor mapping class. Alison was the only official school professor on board, meaning the students would pretty much be left to themselves.

The catamaran sailed until it was far away from the city's pollution and the sandbars so that when Charlie looked down over the side, the ocean's depth appeared endless. He loved staring back at the boat's wake, wondering absently about the ripples and how far out they went before being swallowed by the waves. Whenever the vessel seemed to bounce even more furiously on the ocean, he tried to calculate just how much the wind and water were affecting their speed, as well as the force of pressure they applied against the catamaran and the power being used by the engine to counter them.

And as fascinating as his thoughts were, the best part of the voyage was that Alison spent the entire trip curled up at his side chatting with him, with Cameron, and with her students. He rather liked her students. They were a bright, funny group of people, not nearly as serious as his own. In fact, the whole trip was so different from his own teaching experience, he wasn't sure what to think. He was used to standing at the front of a classroom using his boards and the overhead to explain everything, his students throwing out questions as he went along.

The atmosphere on the boat was a lot more relaxed, with everyone talking and laughing, sodas and water being passed around, while only an occasional question was aimed at Alison. He knew that they probably did, indeed, have a classroom and that this was more of a field trip, but he'd sort of expected Alison to be teaching the whole time. Except for a few questions from those working on mapping, most asked had nothing to do with academics, but clubs they'd tried and if she'd been, or restaurants, or even ideal surfing spots. He was amazed at how she could stop mid-sentence, respond in detail to the question, and start right up again as if their conversation had never been interrupted.

"Scary, isn't she?" Cameron said when the boat came to a halt and Alison moved to speak to the captain.

"I was thinking 'remarkable' myself."

"She's that, too," the astronomer smiled.

"How did you two meet?"

"I was her tutor back in college--math, chemistry, physics."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what her problem areas were. "Subjects dealing with numbers."

"Yeah," Cameron answered, looking at him, gauging his reaction, but he supposed he wasn't really all that surprised. They had so little in common as it was, it almost made sense that she'd have trouble with math.

"She did well enough on her own," Cameron continued, "but in order to excel in her degree so she could go to any grad school she wanted, she hired me and we've been friends ever since. I got her through college, she got me through my disillusionment at NASA, we've been through good times and bad and worse, and then the completely insane times in between, but we're still here."

He smiled. "I'd ask for details about those insane times, but I think I'm afraid to."

"It can definitely wait until another time, one preferably involving spicy food and margaritas."

A hush fell over the boat and Charlie looked over to see Alison had taken hold of the students' attention.

"For those of you who are new here, this is Micah, our captain." A tall black man with braids down to the small of his back and an affable smile on his face stuck his head out of the cabin and waved. "He's not only our chauffer for today, but he also knows more about the equipment on here than I do, so all you mappers with questions, go to him."

"Greetings, everyone," Micah said with a hint of a Jamaican accent. "In addition to Ali's kind words, let me just say don't touch anything, and we'll get along just fine."

"He's very possessive about his boat," Alison said, swatting playfully at him. "Mappers, you know your assignment, right? We were all out here a month ago, and since then, we were lucky enough to have a few minor earthquakes that originated out in the ocean. They did little damage to the shore, though the waves that day. . ." Her eyes grew dewy with the memory. "Let me just say that if you surf and weren't there, you missed out."

"That's because we were all in class listening to your T.A. while you were out having fun!" one of the students yelled out, and she grinned unabashedly.

"Hey dude, surfing's surfing. There are times when the waves come first. Anyway, what this means is that it's up to you mappers to find out how the sea floor has changed because of the earthquakes. I know sonar is real primitive, basic stuff compared to what we get from satellites these days, but it will teach you how to interpret the data to map the sea floor. We've got last month's readings here in this book in case you forgot your own," she held up a book for the class, "and you've got the data we just collected and that these lovely machines are sending back to us for comparison. Remember, if you need help with any of this, see Micah.

"This next set of instructions is for all of you. You can go swimming, but you have to follow the rules--tell someone you're going, wear a lifejacket, and no swimming beyond ten feet of the boat. Break the rules, and you will be grounded for as long as I'm in charge of these little expeditions. You know what I always say--the ocean cannot be trusted. I love her with all my heart, but I would never turn my back on her, and neither should you. Got it? Good.

"Divers, we'll be going out five at a time. Remember, this is just for practice. Don't expect to be going down there and finding Nemo. The purpose of today is for you to prove to me that you know what you're doing, that you know how to use the equipment, and that all our lessons were not in vain. This will also help me determine your readiness for the scuba trip to Belize this summer, so your fate is in my hands," she said with a flirtatious wink at her class as they all groaned good-naturedly. Charlie knew there was no way he could get away with that, being so open and friendly with his class. He wouldn't even know where to begin.

"As for today, we'll only be down there an hour at a time and if you start to feel the least bit squeamish, let me know. It's perfectly natural to feel a little uneasy out here in the open sea, and it may take some of you time to adjust. Nothing to be ashamed of--we're here surrounded by the unknown. It's enough to give anyone the willies."

"Except you," Charlie said under his breath, and Cameron chuckled.

"You wanna bet?"

He turned to look at her. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Ali can handle the diving just fine. The ocean is her playground, except for one little thing."

"What's that?"

Cameron's smile took on a gleeful edge, the kind of glee only a friend can be entitled to feel for the suffering of another friend. "She gets seasick."

"Seasick?"

"Oh, yeah. In the worst possible way. Everything she's eaten in the past week finds its way back up. Ironic, isn't it?"

"But. . ." Charlie glanced over at Alison, who was zipping up her wetsuit, and suddenly he couldn't look away, "she seems fine." Extremely fine. He wondered if he could convince her to wear the wetsuit on a daily basis. Which she probably already did, but perhaps in a more private setting.

"Ginger and acupuncture," Cameron said, and it took an extreme amount of concentration for him to remember what they were talking about. "Ginger's been proven to work just as well as any manmade drugs for motion sickness, and the acupuncture acts as a back-up."

Charlie forced himself to look at the astronomer. "Acupuncture? That just amazes me. How can someone trust their health to something so. . . so. . ."

"Out there?" she asked with a grin, and he nodded. Not exactly what he was trying to say, but it worked. "Half the time, I think it's the belief that it will work that does the trick."

"That's putting a lot of faith in the intangible," he said, shaking his head.

"But faith is what a lot of people who aren't capable of finding the logic rely on."

"What do you think?" Charlie asked.

"Honestly, I think it's a bunch of hogwash, but if it works for them, I'm not going to argue. Let's just hope it keeps working for her," she said, her eyes focusing on the horizon ahead of them. "There's supposed to be a storm front coming through this evening, but it looks like Mother Nature might be fast-forwarding things a bit."

He felt a quiver of nerves in his stomach, his eyes searching the clouds that were a bare speck in the distance. Surrounded by sunshine as they were, it was nearly impossible to believe they might have to worry about rain, or worse. "Think we'll beat it?"

"I think we have a chance, but I'll be keeping an eye out all the same. Personally, I sort of hope it gets here early. Holding back Ali's hair while she vomits over the side of the boat will be the perfect way to end your date."

"You're a cruel woman," he said, and she grinned at him.

"Just wait and see. Ali's got her own cruel streak, though we only usually keep it between ourselves. The privilege of being friends."

"So are you going to be cruel about me?"

"Of course, but only to needle her. So far. . ." Cameron paused, looking over him with an appraising eye, and he suddenly felt like a bug under a microscope, but then she smiled. "So far, I think you're doing just fine."

The only thing that would have made him happier would have been if those words had come from Alison herself. "Thank you."

"Hey Cameron!" Alison yelled from where she was hanging onto the ladder over the side of the boat. "Catch!"

Cameron yelped and dove a good six feet away from the flying object, which landed with a 'splat' next to Charlie.

"ALI!" she shrieked, but Alison just laughed and fell back into the safety of the water. Charlie looked down at the sopping green mess, then over at Cameron, whose face was colored by a furious blush.

"I have a thing about seaweed," she muttered. "Would you mind?"

Laughing, Charlie picked up the seaweed and obliged by tossing it over the side of the boat. If this was the sort of unpredictable and erratic behavior he should expect from Alison. . . he rather thought he could get used to it. In fact, she would probably be good for him. It was like Donny had predicted--not once had he opened his bag of books. He was too busy having fun.

Completed May 3, 2005


	4. Caught in the Rain

A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long to get this next chapter out. My muses were being obnoxious and I had to re-write it a couple times just to get it to a semi-decent state. Muses. Sigh. . .

* * *

The Odds of Human Nature 

Chapter Four: Caught in the Rain

The storm beat them to shore by twenty minutes, but Charlie was oblivious to the rocking of the boat as he kept watch over Alison. Though the smile never left her mouth, her face grew flushed and her eyes would more often than not dart towards the door leading out of the cabin and back onto deck. If this wasn't enough to clue him in that something was wrong, the gouges in his skin where she was clutching his arm would have been a huge hint.

But he didn't complain.

He was happy to have her nails digging into his arm because he knew it was the one thing keeping her together. He rather liked the feel of her weight against his body, of being able to support someone for a change when people are usually supporting him. It had been a long time since anyone needed him like this. Sure, people needed his mind all the time--Don, Larry, the government--but no one needed his physical presence. He hadn't been needed for comfort since his mother.

It was nice. A little painful, but nice.

Alison's smile was on the verge of extinction by the time the catamaran finally docked. Everyone quickly helped to unload the gear as the sky poured down upon them, thunder crashing and lightning flickering across the clouds overhead. Once everything was locked up and stored away, the students began filtering out towards the parking lot, making vain attempts to dodge raindrops while trying to protect their belongings.

"Are they gone yet?" Alison asked through clenched teeth, and Cameron gave a sympathetic nod.

"Yes, you can go."

"Thank god," she muttered and ran for the edge of the pier.

Charlie looked from Alison's retreating form to Cameron, who was clearly trying not to grin. "Should I go after her?"

"I'd give her a minute or two if I were you. Or five."

"She was doing so well," he said with a sympathetic shake of his head as he looked out onto the pier. "I don't think she stopped smiling once on the entire trip back."

"That's because smiling suppresses the gag reflex, but it can't work forever. Here," Cameron said, handing him a bottle of water as she glanced outside, "looks like she's empty. She'll be needing this."

Charlie took the bottle of water and followed after the biologist to where she was kneeling over the pier's edge. "Alison?"

She turned to look at him, a weak smile on her face. "Hey Charlie."

He knelt down next to her, brushing back the hair stuck to her cheek by the rain. Her face was warm despite the chill of the weather and her skin pale beneath the tan. "You okay?"

"Been better," she nodded. "Hate it when this happens, even though I should be used to it by now."

"Here," Charlie said, handing her the bottle as he sat down next to her. "Cameron thought you might want this."

"Thanks," she said, first using it to rinse out her mouth first before tentatively sipping at the water. When it appeared her stomach had settled, she relaxed, glancing at Charlie with a smile. "You're soaking wet."

"It's raining."

"You should have stayed in the boathouse where it's dry."

"But you were out here."

"I'd have made my way back there eventually."

"I don't mind a little water," he shrugged, earning him a look of gratitude.

Alison leaned against him and his arms moved over their own volition to wrap around her shoulders. He couldn't remember the last time he'd held a woman just for the sake of holding her. Most of his encounters with the opposite sex were shallow affairs, feverish and frantic with little tenderness involved. He barely had time to learn their names or really anything about them before morning came and he was gone. It was a new experience for him, actually building something with Alison. He just hoped he didn't do anything to screw it up.

So far, though, he was optimistic.

"If that's true about the water," Alison said looking up at him, a hint of excitement in her voice, "then we're going to have to teach you to swim. Once you know how to swim, I can teach you how to surf, and snorkel, and dive--"

"Hold on there," he chuckled. "Let's just concentrate on the swimming first."

"You're right, of course, swimming first. As a matter of fact, I've got a pool in my backyard that'll be perfect."

"You know I'm going to be making a complete fool of myself for the first few lessons."

"Nice to know a genius can be foolish every once in a while," she smiled, and Charlie found himself smiling back. He'd discovered that when Alison was involved, he always smiled back.

"What do you say we get out of this rain?" He stood up and helped Alison to her feet, the two running hand in hand back to the boathouse.

"Thought you'd decided to grow gills and stay out there," Micah grinned as he held open the door.

"I think I might have," Charlie said, squeezing a layer of water from his hair as Alison took a quick look around.

"Where's Cam?"

"She left before the storm could get any worse, and I suggest you do the same, and not just because I want to lock up so I can go home and dry off."

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Micah," Alison said, wrapping him in a giant hug and promptly getting wet every part of him that had been dry.

"Ali!" he yelped, pushing her away and looking down at his newly sodden clothes. "I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because you love me," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"Yeah yeah yeah," he muttered, but Charlie could see the amused pleasure in his eyes. "Get out of here, brat."

"Thanks for the ride, and we'll see you next week."

"Good meeting you, Micah," Charlie said with a wave, which the man returned.

"You, too. Make sure she treats you right. After all, you've seen how she treats me."

Alison stuck her tongue out at him as she grabbed Charlie's hand and led him to the Jeep.

"You're going to wish you had gills," she said as they piled into the vehicle, which was without roof or windows. "Damnit. We were supposed to beat the storm. If you don't mind, we'll go to my place until it stops raining. It's closer, and we can dry off."

"Sounds good," Charlie said, too busy trying to find a way to fend off the rain to hear anything except the word 'dry'.

Not surprisingly, Alison's home was within walking distance from the beach in an older neighborhood not yet completely bought up by developers. She lived in a single-story ranch style house that was a faded sea-green in color, a dampened version of her eyes. Two large rose bushes, positively bursting with salmon-colored blooms, stood guard on either side of the front door. They were the only decoration for the neatly trimmed green lawn beyond the two sunglasses-wearing pink plastic flamingos which stood in the middle. There was an awning over the part of the driveway next to the house and Alison slid the Jeep inside, coming to a halt just in front of a shed stuck off of the end of the drive.

"Come on in," she said, opening the side door, and gestured for Charlie to go first. He nearly ran into two surfboards hanging on the wall and had to walk sideways to get past them. He made his way to the living room, which was simply decorated in neutral colors with a cream colored sofa and matching recliner surrounding a coffee table made of pine. Not too surprising, there was a painting of the ocean hanging over the sofa. What really drew his eyes, however, were the shelves standing against the opposite wall. Each shelf was completely covered in pictures, most of them people, some of places--usually an island or the beach.

"You want something to drink?" she asked, walking into the kitchen which opened into the living room.

"Water will be fine," he said, crouching down in front of the shelves.

With one glance, he could see that several of the pictures were of her family, the sea-green eyes of her siblings giving them away. Others were of previous school-sponsored trips, the students in them wearing wetsuits and waving with flipper-covered hands. Charlie realized looking at the pictures of student trips that the flipper hands were a trademark of all excursions in which she was the leader, and it made him smile to see the silly grins and laughter on their faces. He knew he was a good teacher and it was easy to get a laugh out of his students in order to set them at ease with the subject, but Alison and her students seemed more like family. Of course, he only saw his students every other day in the classroom. If they spent a week or a month together day in and day out, he wondered how that would change.

Though how he'd manage to get together a group of students who wanted to do nothing but math every day for a month, he didn't know. Maybe if he held the trip in the Caribbean, they'd be tempted to come.

"Do you actually study on these excursions?" he asked as Alison handed him the bottle of water.

"Absolutely. That's what days are for when we're nursing our hangovers," she said, and he couldn't quite tell if she was teasing or not.

"Which brother is which?" he asked as he stood up, pointing to the sea-eyed men on the higher shelves.

"This is Benji next to the very first house he designed, Casey the day he graduated from med school, and this is Stephen," she said, picking up the picture of herself and a young man standing on the beach, each holding a surfboard. He looked a lot like Alison, but his features were finer, sharper. Charlie could see why he and his band had trouble ridding themselves of their female fans. In truth, all the brothers were good looking with their fair hair and pale eyes, each of them tall and fit and handsome. The complete opposite of him, a small part of him noticed.

"These are my parents," she said, returning the surfboard picture and picking up one of an attractive couple in a professionally posed photo, Alison's mother sitting on a chair, her husband standing behind with a hand on her shoulder. They were smiling, but there was a sternness to their eyes that he could imagine gave their children no leniency when it came to finishing their homework and making good grades, always pushing them to do their very best. But there was kindness, too, and laugh lines around their mouths, so he figured growing up with the couple as parents couldn't have been all that bad, though he wouldn't want to be the one who disappointed them.

"Your family is beautiful," he said, putting the picture back in its spot.

"Yeah, we were blessed with fairly decent genes, though my brothers definitely got the lion's share. I was always the ugly duckling of the group."

Charlie turned to look at her, his eyes aghast. "You think you're an ugly duckling?"

"You just saw my family--do you know what it was like growing up with brothers who are prettier than I am? Actually, I didn't mind all that much. I'm the only daughter, so I got spoiled in ways they never did."

"Alison," he said, disregarding her words and her dismissive smile, "I don't know what it is you've been told, but I think you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met."

She shook her head. "Charlie, you don't have to say that. I'm not bothered about how I look."

"Neither am I, and I didn't say it just to make you feel better. I'm telling the truth." With a smile, Charlie reached up, brushing his fingers along her cheek. "You are one of the most beautiful women I've ever met. I'm flattered that someone like you even bothered to look twice at someone like me."

"Charlie, you've got to be kidding me. You're positively gorgeous! One look into those beautiful brown eyes of yours, and I was lost. Though I admit," she grinned, reaching up to tweak one of his curls, "the hair isn't exactly a turn-off."

A blush began to color his cheeks, but before he could stammer out a diminishing response, she leaned forward and kissed him.

He was so shocked, he couldn't move. He just stood there and let himself be kissed.

Alison pulled back, an uncertain smile on her face. "That was too forward of me, wasn't it? I'm sorry. I should have--"

Before she could finish, he gathered up his courage and leaned forward, touching his lips to hers. When she didn't pull away, he deepened the kiss, relishing the feel of her mouth against his as their arms wrapped around each other. She was an amazing kisser, his head instantly beginning to spin and his knees growing weak as their tongues slid against each other. A wave of heat rushed through his body and he wanted nothing more than to hold her to him, to have all of her pressed against him. The idea was so consuming that he knew he had to stop.

With a gasp, he forced himself break the kiss.

"Charlie?" Alison asked, her eyes confused and concerned beneath the underlying heat. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," he said, stumbling away from her. "More than fine. I just don't. . . I don't want you to be like the rest of them." I don't want to be used, he added to himself, and I don't want to use you. "I want this to be real."

She stared at him for a moment, considering his words and the expression in his eyes before granting him a heart-warming smile. "That's what I want, too," Alison said, stepping forward to give him a quick kiss, then quickly backing away. "Come on, we should get cleaned up. I don't know about you, but I'm freezing."

He didn't dare tell her that 'cold' was the last thing he was feeling.

"Let me grab some clothes for you--Stephen always leaves half his wardrobe here, so I'm sure I can find something, and you can have the shower first."

"Oh, no, it's your house. You go first--I insist. I'll just call my dad and let him know where I am."

"Checking in with your dad?" she said as headed down the hall and he could hear a door opening. "That's so sweet."

"He's got a habit of worrying about me," he said loud enough so she could hear. "With reason."

"Well, then," she said, returning with a pair of sweats, a pair of socks, and a tee-shirt, "you should call, get him used to the idea that so long as you're with me, he has nothing to worry about."

"I don't know about that," Charlie smiled, unable to resist claiming another kiss. "I think he's got plenty to worry about."

"Like what?"

"Like never seeing me again."

"Then he'll worry I'm holding you prisoner."

"Aren't you?" he asked teasingly and she grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him forward.

"Absolutely," she said, looking him in the eyes. "I dare you to try and escape."

"Maybe later. Right now, I think I like being your prisoner."

Her face lit up with a beautiful smile, and she leaned forward to kiss him. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Besides, this will give me a chance to know everything about you."

"Oh, I'll never tell you everything," she said with a laugh, pushing him gently towards the phone.

He frowned, turning around to search her eyes. "Why not?"

"Because if you know everything, if you have no more variables left to discover, you might think you have me figured out and you'd grow bored with me."

Charlie had to laugh--she didn't yet know that his understanding of human nature was always going to leave him in the dark, especially where women were concerned. "Alison, you could tell me every tiny detail of everything there is to know about you, and I'd still never have you figured out."

"You'd be surprised," she said, her voice skeptical, but he just grinned.

"I certainly hope so. I'm looking forward to being surprised by you at least once a day. In fact, I don't think I've ever looked forward to anything more."

While he'd been sincere, he didn't expect the reaction his words received. His body flushed at the sudden intensity in her eyes when she pulled him close.

"Charlie, you keep saying things like that, and you're going to learn everything about me a lot sooner than you expected."

He swallowed hard. "Maybe I should be the one to go jump in the shower," he said in a shaky voice, and she laughed, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"I so adore you," Alison smiled, then disappeared down the hall.

It took him several deep breaths before he got himself calmed down enough to a point where he wouldn't have to worry about sounding incoherent when speaking to his father. However, he still had to use all his powers of concentration to ignore the sound of a shower turning on and everything that it implied.

"Think of golf," Charlie told himself as he dialed. "Just think of golf."

* * *

"Eppes residence."

"Hey Donny."

"Charlie," Don said, edging back into the kitchen and away from the living room where their father was watching the game. "Where are you? It's pouring out. Don't tell me you're still on the boat?"

"No, we docked about an hour ago. I'm at Alison's waiting for the rain to blow over."

Don's eyes narrowed though he kept his voice neutral. "Do you want me to come get you?"

"That won't be necessary," Charlie said with a chuckle. "We're fine. I'm fine. We're just hanging out here until the rain stops."

"You sure that's all you're doing?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"I'm sorry?" his brother said, voice filled with confusion. "Don, is there something you want to tell me?"

"No, Charlie. I. . . I just want you to be careful."

"Alison is not a serial killer--" Don could practically hear his brother's eyes rolling. "--nor is she a threat to the country. She's a marine biologist, a wonderful woman, and she likes me, Don, and I don't think it's for my mind. I think she likes. . . me."

The man who was generally considered to be one of the brightest in the world sounded so baffled by the concept that Don couldn't keep from smiling.

"Charlie, everybody likes you. You're a great guy and anyone who knows you will say the same thing."

"Yeah, but it's different with her. When Alison looks at me, I don't feel like I've got a big red neon sign flashing 'GENIUS' floating over my head. When I'm with her, I feel like I'm just like everyone else."

Don was quiet for few seconds, unable to decide between feeling annoyed that Alison wasn't taking his brother's intelligence seriously, or feeling concerned that Charlie had ever worried about being like everyone else and that he continued to worry about it. He'd feel ridiculous asking if anyone had been giving him trouble at school--Charlie was no longer a kid and he was supposedly safe in a world of higher academia where people understood him, but Don knew things hadn't been easy for his little brother growing up.

It hadn't been easy for either of them.

Did Charlie still carry around with him the stigma of being different? Surely by now he was comfortable enough with his gifts not to worry about what other people thought, but Don supposed Charlie wouldn't be human if he didn't worry about it once in a while. No matter where he was, Don knew that on some level Charlie would always be the outsider. He just didn't know how deeply his brother felt it.

"Donny? Hello, Earth to Donny. You there?"

"Yeah buddy, I'm here," Don said, shaking himself out of his reverie.

"What were you thinking so hard about?"

"Nothing."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

Don smiled at the good-natured skepticism in his brother's voice. "All right, nothing worth going into over the phone."

"That I'll accept. Don, I've got to go. It's my turn for the shower and I should probably get out of these clothes before I catch a cold or something. Listen to me," he said with a chuckle, "I'm starting to sound like dad."

"At least you actually noticed your clothes were wet this time," Don said, unable to resist teasing him a little.

"Yeah, I don't think dad's forgiven me yet for ruining the finish on that chair," Charlie said, and they both laughed, each recalling the tragic sigh their father gave every time he saw the mottled chair.

"All right Charlie, I'll see you later today."

"Assuming you don't get called into work."

"Right. Assuming."

"Tell dad where I am. See you later, I hope."

"Yeah, me too."

He knew his brother had meant nothing by it, that Charlie was only stating the obvious when it came to his precarious presence at the house, but he couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt as he hung up the phone. There were still a lot of things left unsaid between them and Don knew that all the time he spent with his family, with Charlie in particular, would never make up for the years he'd spent avoiding them. There were wounds on both sides that would probably never heal, wounds too deep to explore without the risk of tearing them apart. Don knew the peace he held with his brother was tentative at best, resting on the premise that they never opened those wounds. He figured that was why they'd come to an unspoken agreement to rebuild their relationship with a fresh start instead of trying to hack it out of the past.

A psychiatrist may have argued that it was unhealthy for them to keep the bad stuff buried and warned them that it would all eventually escape, but for now, it worked.

"Who was that?" Alan asked as he walked into the kitchen to grab another beer.

"Charlie. He and Alison got caught in the rain, so they're staying at her place until it blows over."

Alan nodded. "She's a sweet girl, that Alison. I could tell just by looking at her."

"She's something else, all right," Don muttered, placing the phone back in the charger.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

But Alan wasn't buying it. "Don, do you have something against this girl? Because as far as I can tell, she'd done nothing wrong except make your brother happy."

"I'm sure she's a great girl, dad. I'm just trying to look out for Charlie."

"Donny," Alan said, placing a sympathetic hand on his eldest son's shoulder, "the days when you felt you were obligated to protect your brother from schoolyard bullies are over. And if you're still feeling guilty for those days when you looked the other way, you shouldn't. That's all in the past now. You've both grown up, and he doesn't need your protection anymore."

"I know, dad, it's just that--"

"Shh. . ." he smiled, shaking his head. "Let it go, Donny. Be the best big brother you can be, but do it by treating him as an equal, a friend, instead of the kid you always need to keep one eye on so he'll stay out of trouble. He already worships you, he always has, and he'll take to heart anything you say. Don't risk losing that trust because of your fears. If there's a lesson to be learned here, let him learn it on his own, and be there to support him every step of the way. That's the best thing you can do for him."

Don stared at his father, at the kind, gentle eyes forever underscored with a shining humor, and sighed. His father was right, and he knew it. Hell, he'd been telling himself the same damn thing not five minutes before his dad had walked into the room. He just hated having to hear it.

Taking a deep breath, Don looked up at the senior Eppes and said with a teasing grin, "And here I was thinking that Charlie's the only genius in the family. You've been hiding something from us, dad."

"It's called experience, and it's something gained with old age. You'll learn it too, one day, though it's clear you've got a long way to go," he said with a wink, giving Don's shoulder a friendly pat before returning to the living room.

And in the meantime, Don swore to himself that he'd make an effort to get to know Alison before passing judgment. He'd support his brother, stand by Charlie's side, treat Alison with courtesy and respect, and hope it all worked out for the best.

Of course, he'd still do the background check on her--that much was a given, but he promised to be damn nice about it.

* * *

(Completed May 16, 2005) 


	5. Friends and Family

A/N: Again, my apologies for taking so long. I've had this chapter written for about a week, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep it. I've since given in and decided to post it anyway. Next one's about halfway finished, so hopefully it'll be up before too long. Thank you for your patience and reviews! I appreciate both!--Love, D

* * *

The Odds of Human Nature

Chapter Five: Friends and Family

Don and Alan stood looking out the kitchen window at Charlie and Alison. They weren't spying, exactly, merely observing. The happy pair was sitting side by side in a couple of lawn chairs, the plastic creaking threateningly beneath them with every move they made. Alison had challenged Charlie to a game of thumb war and they'd been playing for ten minutes now with huge silly grins on their faces as they tried and failed to pin down the other's thumb. The backyard was filled with their laughter intermixed with their quiet murmurings, and while Don didn't know what they were saying to each other, he couldn't remember ever seeing that particular glow in his brother's eyes.

Alan sighed, slinging an arm over his eldest son's shoulders. "Have you ever seen anything more heart-warming?"

"Yeah."

His dad gave him a gentle shake. "Cynic."

Don watched them for a few more seconds, then shrugged. "I admit, he looks happy."

"That's because he is. Come on, help me finish up with dinner."

Don nodded, keeping his eyes on the window for a moment longer before turning to give his dad a hand.

"Charlie, would you check on the chicken?" Alan yelled through the open door and the couple started as if suddenly remembering that there were other people in the world.

"Got it!" he called back and kissed Alison on the cheek before going over to the grill. He turned the chicken, slopped on another layer of barbecue sauce, then returned to Alison. "Now, where were we?"

"We were discussing your spectacular failure in the pool today," Alison said with a teasing grin, taking a sip of beer from the bottle in her hand.

"I wouldn't call it a 'spectacular' failure. It was only my second lesson. After you tried to drown me last time, you're lucky I even got in the pool."

"I did not try to drown you!" she laughed, pushing against his shoulder. He immediately caught her hand, refusing to release it.

"You did so try to drown me. You said you weren't going to let go!"

"It took you thirty seconds before you even realized that I wasn't holding on. You were floating just fine, until you panicked."

"I didn't panic!" he protested.

"You were flailing around like a fish on a hook," she said, sea-green eyes dancing with amusement, "right up to the point you realized the water was only four feet deep and you could stand."

Charlie's face flushed a bright red. "You could have told me."

"I did tell you. I said I wasn't letting you into the deep end until you could swim."

"And since you weren't holding on, for all I knew, I'd floated into the deep end."

Alison pulled him forward with her captive hand. "You really think I would let anything happen to you?" she asked, brushing her lips across his, Charlie's mind immediately going blank as he smiled at her. "Who would I get to balance my checkbook if you drowned?"

Brown eyes widened, then narrowed playfully. "Just for that, I'm taking away your beer."

"No!" Alison screeched as Charlie lunged for the drink in her hand, knocking the two of them out of their chairs and onto the grass. Laughing, Alison held the bottle just out of his reach while trying to push him away. Charlie managed to pin her free arm down and with a final stretch, grabbed the bottle.

"Ha!" he grinned triumphantly, rolling off of her and sitting up to finish off the beer in one swallow.

"Meanie," she grumbled, then rolled over and grabbed the beer he'd abandoned.

"Hey!"

She just smirked and finished off his drink.

"You two kids playing nice or do I need to turn the hose on you?" Alan chuckled as he carried a plate over to the grill for the chicken.

"Hmm. . . I vote hose," Alison said with a wicked twinkle in her eyes. "I like it when you're wet."

"Ali!" Charlie gasped with a mortified look at his father, but Alan just grinned at her.

"Say the word, and I'll get it out."

"Dad!"

"Chicken's almost done. Why don't you show Alison where she can get cleaned up and then dinner will be served."

Charlie stood up and helped Alison to her feet. He showed her the way to the guest bathroom and used the kitchen sink to wash the dirt from his hands and arms.

"You two looked like you were having fun out there," Don said as he added tomatoes to the salad.

"I know I was," Charlie said, grinning at his brother. "I can't help it, Donny. I feel so much more alive when she's around."

"Yes, you laugh, you play," Don gave his brother a look out of the corner of his eye, "you drink."

"Just one!" he said, defending himself against the accusation in his brother's tone. "I don't like not being able to think clearly and not have my entire mind waiting at my fingertips. One doesn't hurt that. Besides, Alison says I'm too much of a lightweight to handle anything more."

"Yeah, well, that's one thing she's right about."

Charlie turned to stare at his brother until Don ceased his pretense of tossing the salad and met his eyes. "You don't like her very much, do you?"

He sighed, breaking Charlie's gaze. "It isn't that I don't like her. I'm just worried about the person you are with her."

"You mean happy? Uninhibited? Able to push aside the ceaseless flow in my head and gain some peace, even if it's just for a few seconds? I thought that's what you wanted for me."

"It is. But does it have to be through her?"

"If not her, it'll be someone else."

"Yeah, someone who could appreciate you better than she can."

Charlie sighed as grabbed a stack of plates to take to the dining room table. "Mom would have liked her."

"Oh yeah? How do you know?"

"I think I'd know better than you," he snapped and at the flash of pain across Don's face, instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry. I don't want to pick a fight with you. I just want you to believe me when I say this is a good thing, and that Alison is good for me."

Don looked into his brother's eyes and saw the need for approval Charlie so desperately wanted. He knew that if he continued to show a dislike towards Alison, eventually Charlie would give her up just to keep the peace between them. He also knew that doing so would make his brother miserable, and he didn't want to be responsible for that. He reached out a hand and placed it on his brother's shoulder. "I believe you, buddy. I'm sorry."

A second passed, and then Charlie's face broke into an irrepressible grin. "Thanks Donny."

"You're welcome. Now let's get the rest of these dishes on the table."

As if they'd been waiting for their cue, both Alison and Alan chose that moment to return to the kitchen.

"You got everything?" Alan asked.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Alison asked.

"Grab that bowl of coleslaw," Don said, smiling at her, "and I think that's the last of it."

"Great," she said, returning his smile, and carrying their separate burdens, they all filed into the dining room to eat.

Charlie sent his brother a silent 'thank you' as he passed and Don regretted being such an ass to Alison when treating her nice was able to bring such joy to his brother's eyes. After all, it wasn't Alison's fault. He knew better than anyone you couldn't choose your family. He just hoped she'd be able to protect Charlie from hers.

* * *

"What's that noise?" Cameron asked and Alison shifted the phone to her other shoulder to stretch the crick in her neck.

"I'm programming Charlie's house number into my cell and I'm trying to find the right song for it."

"Give him mine."

"Nah," she grinned, "Beck suits you."

"Like hell. I deserve something more enlightened."

"I can do Mozart's Requiem."

"Ha ha. I was thinking the Star Wars theme. I am an astronomer after all."

"You're staying 'E-Pro'," Alison said, a slight frown on her face as she tried to think of an appropriate tune for her boyfriend. "It's Sunday, isn't it? Why are you at school? What are you working on?

"Who said I'm working?"

"Don't tell me you've got the binoculars out again."

"It's a beautiful sunny day and all the dorms have emptied out onto the lawn. What do you think?"

"I think you need to find a hobby."

"This is a hobby."

"It's a creepy hobby."

"It's a creepy hobby you used to participate in."

Alison heaved a remarkably sappy sigh. "That was in the old days, before I found love."

"Yes. You've gotten a lot duller since then."

"But I'm happy."

"I know. It's disgusting. So, things still going well?"

"Couldn't be better. Even his brother is starting to warm up to me."

"Will wonders never cease."

"What about 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow'?" Dead silence on the other end. "Okay, I'll take that as a 'no'."

"Good guess," came Cameron's wry and slightly distracted voice.

Alison rolled her eyes. "Forget a hobby. We need to get you laid."

"To live vicariously through you is enough for me."

"No wonder your eyes are glued to the windows."

"Still a no-go on the physical, huh?"

"We're taking our time."

"In this day and age? No such thing."

"Tell that to Charlie," she said, a light note of discontent in her tone.

"Maybe he's waiting for you to make the first move."

"Yeah, sure, and then I do make the first move and scare him away and I never see him again and I'm back to ogling pretty young things out the windows with you. But on my campus, not yours, because my young things are prettier."

"Your campus is larger. You have more options."

"And we have sports."

"Rub it in, why don't you? I don't suppose 'mathletes' count as athletes?"

"Not in this lifetime, sweetheart. But I'm not worried about it coming to that. I'm happy to wait patiently for Charlie to be ready."

"While keeping Mr. Buzzy and his extra batteries in your beside table."

"Hey, don't knock him. Mr. Buzzy's one of two reasons why I can afford to be patient."

"And the other reason?"

Again the sappy sigh. "I'm in love."

"Good thing I haven't had lunch yet," Cameron grumbled, only to be startled a second later by her friend's triumphant shout.

"I've got it! I've found the perfect song for Charlie."

"Great. Tell me when I've switched ears since I've somehow gone deaf in this one."

"Give me a second," she said, pressing a few buttons on her phone. "There we go--I've assigned 'Float On' to Charlie's home number."

"'Float On'?"

"Inside joke," she grinned, shutting her cell.

"Your entire life is an inside joke."

"Considering you know most of the punch lines, you really shouldn't say anything."

"Excellent point," Cameron said, then sighed. "All right, I think it's time for me to get back to work. We still on for lunch tomorrow?"

"Absolutely."

"And no seeing Charlie until after we've eaten. That's a mistake I'll only make once."

"Agreed," Alison said, turning at the sound of a key in her side door. "Well, whaddya know, I think Stephen's here."

"Were you expecting him?"

"Do I ever?"

"Mmm. . . maybe I should head over there with the binoculars."

"Hey, that's my brother you're drooling over."

"Tell me about it," Cameron said, and Alison rolled her eyes.

"See you tomorrow," she said, hanging up the phone just as Stephen stumbled inside, hauling with him what looked to be all his worldly possessions and bags under his bloodshot eyes deep enough to fit it all. She couldn't remember the last time her golden younger brother looked so washed out. His skin had a grey tinge beneath its tan and she figured if he lifted up his shirt, she'd be able to count all his ribs. He was definitely on the verge of a breakdown. "So, 'pollo, are you exhausted, strung out, on a break, or do you just need to do laundry?"

"Hello yourself, Spitfire," he said, dropping all the bags onto the living room floor. "Good to see you, too. And the answer to your question is 'all of the above'."

"You look like crap," she said, giving her brother a hug. He was a good four inches taller than her and had to bend over to kiss her cheek.

"You've never looked better," Stephen said, pulling back to actually get a total view of his sister and gave her an appraising look. "You know, you really do look amazing. Is there something I'm missing?"

Alison just smiled at him a secret sort of smile and the sea-green eyes a shade darker than her own turned calculating.

"All right, what's up?"

"Nothing," she said with feigned innocence. "Nothing that can't wait. Go on, get some sleep. You're about to keel over. We can talk when you wake up."

Stephen hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Sounds good," he said and was halfway to the bedroom when he turned to look at her with suspicious eyes. "You're not making me an uncle, are you?"

"No," she laughed and he grinned with relief.

"Then I'm off to bed. Don't. . . don't tell them I'm here."

"You know I won't," Alison said, waiting until the door was shut before reaching for her cell. Just as she was about to pick it up, it began playing 'Float On' and she grinned. It really was the perfect song. "Charlie, I was just about to call you."

"You were?" he asked, sounding surprised that anyone would be just about to call him.

"Yeah, listen, I need to cancel tonight. Stephen just showed up and I should probably stay in and catch up with him, make sure he hasn't done anything requiring immediate legal counsel."

"Um. . . okay, that's probably a good idea."

Alison smiled fondly into the phone. "That was a joke, Charlie. I hope. But I'm going to lunch with Cameron tomorrow, so how about I stop by afterwards and tell you how much I miss you?"

"I think I like the sound of that," he said, relieved to be back on familiar ground.

"And then maybe sometime this week, you can meet Stephen."

Charlie gulped. "Yeah. . . sure. . . that'll be. . . nice."

"Don't worry," she chuckled. "Stephen's the one you don't have to fear. It's the others who will eat you alive."

"You're really not helping."

"It'll be fine, Charlie, I promise."

* * *

Charlie stared at his phone after hanging up with Alison and sighed. "Shit."

"Something wrong, Charles?" Larry asked, peering at him over the top of his laptop's screen.

"Alison's brother showed up and she wants me to meet him."

"Which one?"

"The youngest, I think. The musician."

"Ah, well then, you shouldn't have a problem."

"Why?"

"Because he's a musician," Larry said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

"You know that makes no sense, don't you?"

"Sure it does. He's a man ruled by passion, and once he sees how much you love his sister and how much she loves you, the last thing he'll want to do is stand in your way."

Charlie's eyes took on a deer-in-the-headlights expression as he stared down at the physicist.

"Wait a minute. Can we back up just a second?" he said, sitting down in front of his friend and moving the laptop over so he could see Larry's face. "Did you say love?"

"Charlie," Larry said, using the same patience of tone he reserved for his students, "it's obvious."

Charlie shook his head, trying to process this seemingly new piece of information. "But it. . . you aren't. . . we can't. . ." The stammering ceased and he looked up at Larry with a new light in his eyes. "Do you really think so?"

He sighed. "You're both so completely head over heels for each other it's almost physically impossible to be in the same room with you without wanting to knock your heads together."

"Gee, Larry, that's the sweetest thing you've ever said," Charlie teased, and the physicist gave him a patronizing look.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you haven't realized this by now."

"How could I?" he shrugged. "I've never been in love before."

"It's as good a time to start as any."

"Yeah," he said softly, his eyes contemplative, "I guess it is. Unless her brother decides to hate me."

"As her brother, he has that right, but I don't think he will. Even if he does, do you really think it will matter to Alison?"

"No, I guess not. Not Alison."

"So you have nothing to fear."

"I hope you're right," Charlie said, then shook his head, musing aloud with a silly grin on his face as he sat back in his chair. "Love. I never would have thought. . . Wow. Love. You know, I think you're right. I think you're absolutely right. I'm in love. I'm in love! I'm in love with Alison!"

"Yes, Charles, you're in love with Alison. Unless there's someone else out there you haven't told me about."

"No, there's just Alison. I only love Alison. I love her," he grinned. "Thanks for pointing it out to me, Larry."

The physicist just sighed and pulled the laptop back in front of him so he didn't have to witness his genius friend's dopey expression. "Now I know why women complain about us all the time," he muttered, prepared to ignore the rest of Charlie's love-struck murmurings for the rest of the day.

* * *

A light knock disturbed his sleep and Stephen stirred himself long enough to look up as his sister opened the door.

"You hungry?"

He considered the various aches in his body and nodded. "Famished."

"Good. I've ordered Chinese. Should be here in about fifteen minutes."

"You really need to learn to cook," he said, groaning as he forced himself to sit up. "It's healthier."

Alison didn't say anything. She just gave him a look clearly stating her opinion on his ideas of what should and should not be considered healthy, and he glared at her.

"Shut up, mom."

"Speaking of--"

"We weren't," he interrupted before she could finish.

Alison grinned. "Just teasing. Why don't you go take a shower, there are clean clothes in the dresser, and I'll try not to eat all the pineapple from the sweet and sour chicken before you get out?"

He stared at her, expression quizzical. "Was that a question, a suggestion, or a threat?"

"You decide."

Alison disappeared and Stephen sighed, a soft smile on his face. Of all his family, Alison was the only one who managed to successfully combine being judgmental and loving. Everyone else just managed to come off as judgmental. He knew he was still due for an interrogation, but from Ali, he could take it. He just hoped she took pity on him and didn't probe too deeply. He didn't want to keep secrets from her, but he would if he had to.

"Hey Spitfire," Stephen said, emerging twenty minutes later from the bathroom sparkling clean and in sweatpants, "your shampoo smells like flowers. What's up with that?"

"It's shampoo scented with flowers. Do you need any more explanation?"

"Yeah. Since when do you want to smell like flowers?"

"It was on sale," she shrugged, popping a piece of pineapple into her mouth.

"Right," he said, sliding onto the floor in front of the coffee table and leaning his back against the sofa. He didn't believe that for a second. For almost her entire life, Alison had smelled like sunshine, saltwater, and sunscreen. Even on her prom night, the scent of SPF 45 had followed her through the air. No, something was definitely up.

"'pollo, you're dripping water everywhere," she scolded as she moved to sit down behind him. She removed the towel from around his neck and began rubbing the excess drops from his head.

"It's water. It'll dry," he said, grabbing a white box and digging through it for the remaining pineapple, but she didn't seem to hear him. She was too busy tsking over the state of his hair.

"You haven't been taking care of yourself."

"That's your job," he said, looking up at her with an over-the-top adoring smile.

Not buying it for a second, Alison lightly whacked him across the side of his head. "When you're done eating, I'm giving you a haircut."

"You're not cutting my hair!"

"Yes, I am. It needs it."

"The last time I let you cut my hair, you just kept cutting and cutting until it was almost all gone."

"I couldn't get it evened out!" she said, not looking terribly apologetic. "Besides, it looked fine in the end."

"Yes, my bald stage was quite memorable." Alison stuck out her lower lip, giving him the hurt puppy-dog look, and he sighed. "I could probably use a new look anyway."

"Yay!" She clapped her hands with the excitement of a six-year-old getting to play dress-up with her mother's clothes, and he rolled his eyes.

"Admit it. You didn't miss me, you just missed playing with my gorgeous blond locks," he said, dramatically flipping his shoulder-length hair over his shoulder and sending a spray of water her way.

"Blame our parents," she said, brushing the drops off her arm. "You're the only Barbie I ever had."

"Oh, you're funny."

"Quiet, Barbie, and hand me an egg roll," Alison said, sliding down onto the floor next to him. "So, do you want to go first?"

He thought about it for a moment, then his shoulders slumped a little as whatever fight he had eased out of him. It was probably best to get the questions out of the way early. "Sure, why not. Let me just recall the main points. There's been sex, drugs, and. . . oh, yeah, rock and roll. I think that covers it. Your turn."

"Not quite," she said, pointing at him with the tips of her chopsticks. "Diseases?"

"Geez, sis, don't hold back or anything."

"Diseases?"

"Zilch."

"When were you last tested?"

"Two weeks ago."

"Hmm. . . well, we can always get you retested. Drugs?"

"Egg roll?" he offered in an attempt to change the subject, her look telling him exactly what she was planning on doing with that egg roll if he didn't cooperate. He sighed. If it was anyone else, he would have walked out ten minutes ago, but he knew he owed Ali the truth. "Been clean for eight and a half days."

"Better than nothing. Girlfriend?"

"Which one?"

"Void question. Band?"

Silence.

"Band?" she insisted.

"I think the sad day has come when White Rabbit's Revenge has finally bit the dust."

She nodded but didn't push for details. He would tell her in his own good time, as he always did. "You know you can stay here as long as you want."

"Thanks, but I don't think I'll be here long. We done?"

"You've been moderately cooperative, so I'm going to let you off the hook for now."

"You're a peach," he said, nudging her in the side with his elbow, and she nudged him back. "And now it's your turn. What's new in your life?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Teaching, diving, surfing, hours and hours of research I've been putting off for too long."

"Any dating?"

"Possibly," she said, and he could tell from the flush of pleasure on her face and the smugness of her smile this was where the true story was to be found.

"Is it serious?"

"Some might say that."

Stephen's eyes grew wide. "Spitfire, you've been holding out on me! You don't date anyone seriously!"

"I do now."

"Finally stopped wandering, huh?" he asked, the lightness of the question overweighed by the seriousness of its meaning, and she smiled at him.

"What can I say? I found someone worth stopping for."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, lifting a bunch of noodles into his mouth as he gave her a casual glance. "Do I get to meet him?"

"I don't know." Alison gave her brother a stern look. "You promise to behave?"

"No."

"You promise not to run him off?"

"No."

"You want me to call mom?"

"I shall welcome my new brother with open arms and make him my closest friend so that together we can bring joy to the life of my beloved sister."

She chuckled. "All I really want is for you to give him a chance, but hey, that works too."

Stephen didn't tell her she didn't have to fear about her new beau--in fact, this new boyfriend couldn't have appeared at a better time. He'd make sure he was leaving his big sister in good hands and, if the man passed muster, he'd no longer have to worry about the one person in the world who mattered to him.

"So, are you going to tell me about him or what?" Stephen asked, knowing Alison was ready to burst with impatience to start talking.

"His name is Charlie and he's the sweetest man I've ever met. He's kind, and generous, and has a great heart. He's got these beautiful brown eyes and this gorgeous head of brown curls and the softest lips. . . not that you want those kind of details," she said, quickly moving on. "He's got a quirky sense of humor, and he puts up with mine--"

"Oh, well then, he's definitely a keeper."

She poked him in the stomach. "He's really great, Stephen. I think you'll like him."

"Sounds like a catch so far. What does he do?"

"He's a professor, like me. He teaches mathematics at CalSci."

"Wow. Smart."

"Actually, yeah. He's a genius."

"Really?"

"He puts the entire combined IQ of our family to shame."

"Including Benji?"

"Charlie makes Benji look like a dunce."

"You're right," Stephen grinned. "I like him already."

"There are better reasons to like him."

"That's the only reason I need," he said dreamily, resting his head on Alison's shoulder.

"I think I'll take it. I've gotta have one of you on my side."

"Spitfire, I'm always on your side."

"I know, 'pollo," she said, wrapping an arm around him and stroking his hair. "And I'm always on yours."

That's what I'm counting on, Stephen thought as he stared pointedly ahead of him, avoiding his sister's sea-green gaze or risk ruining everything.

* * *

(Completed May 20, 2005) 


	6. The Right Moment

A/N: Just want to thank you again for your patience, your reviews, and your support! You're a wonderful audience to have! Also, "Collide" belongs to Charlie's cell, "Float On" his house phone. Love, D

The Odds of Human Nature

Chapter Six: The Right Moment

* * *

Alan and Don looked up as the front door opened and closed.

"Charlie, is that you?"

"Yeah, dad, it's me," he said, peering into the living room. "Oh, hey Donny."

"Hey buddy," Don said, tilting his head as he looked over his brother's distant expression. "Everything all right?"

"Hmm? Yeah, sure. Why?"

"You're here, for one thing. You haven't spent a night home alone in at least three weeks."

"Has it really been that long?" Charlie asked, staring at his family as if expecting them to have changed without him knowing it.

"Seems like longer," Alan said, making room on the sofa for his son. "Where's Alison?"

"With Stephen," he said as he sat down.

"Again?" his father asked, instantly bristling at the thought that Alison could have passed over his son for someone else.

"Her brother."

"He's the youngest, right?" Don asked, and Charlie nodded.

"Yeah, that's him. He showed up today and she had to break our date because she wanted to spend some time with him."

Don looked away to hide the narrowing of his eyes from his clearly distraught brother, who'd probably never had anyone break a date with him before. He remembered Stephen from the background check he'd done on Alison, and what he knew of her brother wasn't exactly admirable.

"Oh, well, that's nice," Alan said. "Caring about family is always an admirable quality in a person." Somehow, Charlie didn't look convinced and Alan decided to change the subject and hopefully distract his youngest son. "We were just watching the Hitchcock retrospective on AMC. Care to join us?"

Charlie thought about it for a moment, then shook his head, standing back up. "Thanks for the invite, but I've actually got some work I've been putting off that I should probably finish. I'll be in the garage if you need me."

"You want me to come get you in a couple hours?" Don asked before he could leave. The last thing he wanted was for his brother to retreat into that place again, and he would judge just how upset Charlie was by his answer. Don was relieved when the young man looked at him with a grateful smile.

"That's a good idea. Thanks, Donny."

"Not a problem." The FBI agent's eyes studied Charlie, his brow creasing once more with concern. "You sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," he said, then disappeared before anything more questions could be asked.

"Something up?" Alan asked, and Don shook his head.

"No, just checking."

"Uh-huh." Alan gave his son the same speculative look Don had just given Charlie, but decided to let the brothers work this out for themselves. He'd learned through years of experience that they'd come to him when he was needed, and not a moment before.

Don stared at the television, the black and white images flashing across the screen, but he didn't see any of them. He was thinking about whether or not he should warn Charlie, but about what?

Yeah, Alison's brother wasn't exactly a stickler for the law, but no more so than anyone who frequented L.A.'s club scene. A few minor drug charges, disturbing the peace, drunk and disorderly, but nothing dangerous, nothing that should raise any eyebrows.

He had a feeling if he tried to accuse Stephen in any way to Charlie right now, his little brother would just think he was trying to sabotage his relationship with Alison. Beyond those minor infractions of Stephen's, there really wasn't anything to warn Charlie about, but Don just couldn't get over this uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that Stephen was bad news.

On the other hand, he'd had the same feeling about Alison and, so far, he'd been dead wrong about her. He couldn't deny that Alison was at heart an incredibly sweet girl who clearly adored his brother. Though he'd probably regret it, for the moment Don decided to hold his tongue and watch things play out, all the while hoping his stomach was wrong.

* * *

"Alison, you're almost out of laundry detergent!"

"Stephen, get off your lazy ass and go buy some!"

He peered around the corner of the utility room long enough to stick his tongue out at her then ducked back inside. She heard the sound of the machine being started and he walked into the living room. "You're looking all spiffed up. Going somewhere?"

"I've got a date with Charlie tonight. You remember me mentioning him, don't you? The boyfriend I keep bailing on so I can spend time with my baby brother?"

"'Baby' brother? I know you can't be referring to me," he said with mock offense.

"Do you see any other baby brothers hanging around here?" she said, reaching for her phone as the sound of 'Collide' filled the room. She was positively beaming when she answered it. "Charlie! Light of my life! I was just talking about you."

"Anything I should know about?" he asked, sounding wary, but she just laughed.

"Nah, not really. Are you at home?"

"Yes."

She frowned, pulling the phone away to glance at the number on the I.D. "And you're calling me from your cell?"

"I'm working on something in the garage."

"Okay, gotcha. So, are you going to be ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"Our date, of course. I know I've stood you up the past few nights, but I'm making it up to you tonight. I've got something special planned," she said, and laughed at the resulting groan.

The last few 'something special's she'd taken him on had involved roller skating along the boardwalk (and a bruised tailbone), karaoke, a rock concert (he swore his ears were still ringing), and a day-long yoga/meditation retreat. They had ordinary dates too, but Alison liked to throw in something new every once in a while just to keep things interesting, completely overriding his objections that just being with her was interesting enough. She'd give him a big kiss for saying it, but still insisted on dragging him off to face their next adventure.

"You know," Charlie said, "that's too bad because as much as I look forward to your surprises, I was actually calling to let you know I need to work tonight."

"Liar," she grinned at the obvious insincerity in his voice. "I promise it'll be painless."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before," he grumbled.

"Wear something comfortable. Jeans, and that black button-down shirt I like so much."

"Anything else I can do for you?"

"Be ready in twenty minutes," she said and hung up the phone before he could think up any more excuses. Shoving it in her pocket, she turned to her brother. "You going to be okay on your own?"

"Yes, Spitfire," Stephen said, rolling his eyes. "I'm only three years younger than you. I think I can handle being left alone."

She smiled, pressing a hand to his cheek. "I know, but you haven't stepped out of the house once since you got here. I can't even get you to go surfing, so don't blame me if I worry."

He flashed her a reassuring smile. "I'm just taking a vacation from myself for a little while, but I promise, nothing's wrong."

"All right," she said, grabbing the keys to the Jeep and looking around for anything else she might have forgotten. "I probably won't be home till late, so don't wait up."

"Have fun, and don't do anything I would do."

"Trust me, 'pollo," she said as she headed out the door, "anything on that long list is the furthest thing from my mind."

"Guess that means you're in for a really boring night!" he called and she peeked back inside long enough to blow a raspberry at him and left.

* * *

Charlie looked more than a little wary as Alison pulled into the parking lot for King Prawn's Roadhouse. Music could already be heard thumping through the cracks in the walls and the smoke rising from the back had a distinct mesquite tang to it. The place had a wraparound porch with various animal horns hanging in between the windows and the wood was deliberately weathered to make it appear like it had been picked up right out of the Old West. The inside of the Roadhouse was one large rectangular space with tables placed along three sides, the fourth reserved for the small stage currently holding a country-western band, the center for dancing. They followed a hostess to a table which gave them a clear view of the dance floor and as they sat down, Charlie noticed he didn't exactly blend in with many of the other male patrons.

"You should have warned me to bring my head-sized belt buckle," he murmured and she laughed.

"Then I'd have to lean you against a post to make sure you didn't tip over."

Charlie grinned, leaning across the table to kiss her. He didn't realize just how much he'd missed Alison until he'd opened the door to see her standing on his front porch. Just one look and he'd been unable to resist pulling her into a long kiss that had left them both breathless and Alan with an adoring smile on his face, craning his head as if hearing wedding bells.

"Now watch," she said as their order arrived of a pitcher of beer and a plate each of barbequed brisket, fried pickles, and French fries. Charlie shuddered once he fully realized exactly what it was he'd ordered and was certain his stomach would never forgive him.

"Watch what?" he asked, studying a fried pickle and wondering what had ever possessed someone to do such a cruel thing to the poor vegetable.

"The dancing."

A suspicion began to form in the back of his mind. "Why?" he asked, and she smiled innocently at him.

"Why do you think?"

"Alison, I don't know how to dance, not like that."

"Sure you do. Dancing is a matter of finding a pattern in the steps and repeating that pattern, something you're more than capable of doing."

"Thought a lot about the wording of that particular explanation, didn't you?" he asked with a wry grin and she chuckled.

"I knew I had to say it in your language or I'd never get you out there. So sit back, observe the dancers, and then we'll practice."

"In front of everyone?"

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Charlie, look at them. Yeah, there are a few couples who stand out as truly spectacular, but the rest of them are just there to have fun and don't care how silly they look. I don't care how silly we'll look. I don't care how we'll look at all. I just want to be out there with you holding me in your arms."

Charlie met her eyes, unable to keep the smile from his face. "You know saying things like that makes it extremely difficult for me to say no."

"That's the idea," she said, placing her hands on his cheeks and turning his head towards the dance floor.

He obediently watched the dancers and, as predicted, quickly discerned the pattern in their movements. It didn't look too hard. With a little practice, he could probably manage it without making a fool of himself.

"At least I won't end up in traction from this date," he said just loud enough for her to hear, and she batted her eyes at him, smiling flirtatiously.

"Don't say that until you've seen me dance. You might still end up in the hospital before the evening's out."

Charlie stared at her in surprise. "Why? Don't you know how to dance?"

Alison shook her head. "Like you, I'm new at this. A couple students told me about this place and I thought it sounded like fun, but I've never been here before tonight."

"You're either the bravest woman I know, or the craziest."

"I'm happy with both, and whaddya know, here are my students now. Billy! Li!" she waved, and the couple made their way over to the table.

"Professor," Li smiled, "you came!"

"Told you I'd give it a try. You two remember Professor Eppes, don't you?"

"Charlie, please," he said, smiling at the couple he remembered from one of the diving trips.

"Of course. Nice seeing you again, Charlie," Li smiled.

"Hey Charlie," Billy asked, "mind if I take the Professor here for a spin across the dance floor?"

At the apprehensive look on Alison's face, Charlie gave her an evil grin. "I think she'd like that."

Alison glared at him, but accepted. "All right, but only if you agree to dance with Li."

"I'd be honored," he said, holding his hand out to the pretty student. "Though I should warn you, I've never done this before."

"Well Li's a great teacher, so she'll show you how it's done," Billy said as he led Alison onto the dance floor, Charlie and Li following right behind.

Charlie spent the first dance alternately watching his feet and keeping an eye on Alison, who'd given up on apologizing at stepping on Billy's feet and had settled for a wide grin alternating between bursts of laughter. He himself caught on fairly fast and was soon able to spend most of his time looking over Li's shoulder to where Billy, a big man by nature, had decided to save his feet and had just lifted Alison up off the floor to dance.

"You like her a lot, don't you?" Li asked, and Charlie smiled contritely at her.

"I'm sorry. I'm not being fair, am I? I'll gladly take the title of 'worst dance partner ever'."

"It's all right," she said, shaking her head. "I've been in Professor Strauss's classes for three years and I help her on the trips every summer. In all that time, I've never seen her this happy. I mean, we hear the rumors about her and I thought that might be the reason she'd never settled down, but it's nice to know they're not true."

"Rumors?" he asked, not sure if he wanted to know any of the details, but the question had already left his mouth.

"You know, about how she goes through all the men on campus like a whirlwind--both students and professors, but I think it's all crap." Li grinned conspiratorially at him. "I think they're just jealous because she keeps turning them down."

"I hadn't actually heard those exact rumors," he said. Li's eyes widened with horror and he quickly smiled to reassure her. "It's all right. Alison and I have already talked about our past romances, and as you suspected, the rumors are all crap."

"I'm sorry, Charlie. I probably shouldn't have said anything."

"Really, it's okay. I'm glad to hear her students don't believe those rumors even if everyone else does. You mentioned you go on the summer trips with her?"

"I have ever since my freshman year. We've been to Cayman, Belize, and Hawaii. She's trying to plan a trip to Australia, but the school's having a hard time with that one."

"With Australia, but none of the others?"

"Too expensive."

"Makes sense," he nodded, sliding his eyes over to look at Alison as he made a sudden horrible realization. Summer was coming, which meant she'd be leaving for one of her trips. For a second, his heart clenched with the fear of what he was going to do all those months without her. As he was thinking this, Alison caught him looking and winked.

"Billy, let's trade," she said and the big man led her over to Charlie. She and Li switched places and Alison wrapped her arms around Charlie's neck. "Having fun?"

"Yeah, actually," he answered, putting on a bright face for her despite worrying about the upcoming change in seasons.

"Good. Just keep an eye on your feet. I don't want you limping to class."

"You're doing fine," he said just as she clipped his toes.

"Sorry," she said, smiling sheepishly at him. "It seems I have no coordination out of water."

"Like I said, you're doing fine. You can completely mangle my feet and I wouldn't even notice."

"Oh you wouldn't, would you?"

"I can't feel any pain as long as you're in my arms."

Alison's cheeks took on a distinctly pink color, her eyes shining as she looked at him, and Charlie felt his heart burst into a million lights like a sky full of fireworks. This was the exact moment he'd been waiting for, when his heart was sure of his feelings and he had a pretty good idea about hers. He hadn't thought it would be in a place like this with her feet bruising his as they tried to dance to music he didn't really care for, but there were some moments that just couldn't be predicted, and this was one of them. He was lucky he'd even recognized it, and he wasn't about to let it pass by.

"Alison, there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while and I want to do it now before I run out of nerve."

"What is it, Charlie?" she asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.

Not wanting her to worry, Charlie took a deep breath and said the words he'd been waiting to say almost since the minute they'd first shaken hands on that street corner all those weeks ago. "Alison, I love you."

Her remarkable sea-green eyes grew wide as she stared at him. "You love me?" she whispered, and he nodded.

"I love you."

"Oh, Charlie!" she gasped, hugging him tight. "I love you, too!"

"You do?" he asked.

"I do! Of course I do!"

Laughing with uninhibited glee, he picked her up and spun her around, her laughter mingling with his. She loved him! was the thought circling through his mind. Alison loved him!

"Charlie," she said, drawing back to look into his eyes once he'd set her back down, "come home with me."

He was nearly knocked off his feet when the full impact of her words hit him. Come home, not just to talk or grab a bite to eat or make out on the sofa, but home. . . to stay. . . for the night. In a bed. In her bed. With her.

"Charlie?" Alison said, her smile fading when he didn't answer and he quickly gave her a kiss, chasing all her fears away.

"Alison, I'd love to."

* * *

A/N: Due to mild sexual content, the next section has been removed from this chapter. The chapter can be found in its entirety at my Yahoo group (see the official website listed under my profile) or adultfan. nexcess .net (minus the spaces, of course). Again, thank you all for your reviews! Your support is what keeps me going! Love, D

Chapter completed June 20, 2005


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